Mirror, Mirror
by lpdrunknmunky
Summary: A collection of fairy tale inspired short stories. Reworks of Red Riding Hood, Briar Rose, Rapunzel, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Cinderella, and more! IchiIshi and other background pairings
1. Cover Page

Mirror, Mirror

AN: This is a series of short stories inspired by various fairy tales, mostly Brothers Grimm. Main pairing is IchiIshi for all, with a few secondary pairings. The rating and warnings vary by story, so I'll go ahead and leave all the info for each on this title page for quick reference. I may post more later, so feel free to add this story to your update alerts if you like what you read. Please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy them!

 **I. Sympathy for the Dragon**

Rating: T

Warnings: mild violence

Summary: Sleeping beauty/Briar Rose rework

Theme song: "Red Sorrow" by Audiomachine

 **II. Stroke of Midnight**

Rating: M

Warnings: m/m sex, angst, fluff

Summary: Modernized Cinderella

Theme song: "Blood Red Summer" by Coheed and Cambria

 **III. He of the Orange Hair**

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, sexual situations

Summary: Rapunzel rework

Theme song: "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie

 **IV. White Riding Hood**

(In two parts)

Rating: T

Warnings: violence & gore, character death, angst

Summary: Red riding hood rework

Theme song: "How'm I Supposed to Die" by Civil Twilight

 **V. The Scholar and the Beast**

(in three parts)

Rating: M

Warnings: mature themes, angst, suicidal ideation, alcohol use, dubcon

Summary: Beauty and the beast rework

Theme songs: "Ezio's Family" by Jesper Kyd

 **VI. Tale of the Golden God**

Rating: M

Warnings: mature themes, violence, m/m sex, character death

Summary: Jack and the Beanstalk rework

Theme song: "Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran

 **VII. Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami**

(In four parts)

Rating: M

Warnings: violence, angst, character death, slow-burn, m/m sex

Summary: Snow White rework. There are NO orgies in this adaptation, sadly.

Theme songs: "Our Destiny" by Thomas Bergersen and "Ironheart" by Two Steps from Hell


	2. Sympathy for the Dragon

**Sympathy for the Dragon**

* * *

Once upon a time in a far away kingdom, there lived a brave and honest knight named Ichigo. So beloved and renowned was he that the king of the land entrusted the knight with a most precious task: to rescue his eternally slumbering daughter, the pure-hearted Princess Orihime, from an enchanted castle under guard of a fearsome dragon. Whomsoever managed to break the hex holding her would inherit many riches and indeed the kingdom itself, if she would agree to be their queen. Many mighty men had endeavored to rescue her over the years but none had ever succeeded.

So, it was to Ichigo the monumental task fell. He packed ample supplies for the grueling journey and rode off on his robust steed at first light. Traveling to the enchanted castle took several days but his spirit was emboldened by the knowledge that he was doing a great deed, for the princess was not the only poor soul trapped in the potent spell. All who had been in the sprawling castle at the time it was cast instantly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. Ichigo would finally rouse them all from their perpetual nightmare so they could resume living their lives in peace.

Thus the knight arrived at the enchanted castle one fateful night, weary but determined to achieve victory.

Massive, roiling clouds rumbled angrily overhead as he slowed his mount to appraise the macabre landscape before him. In the distance at the top of a craggy hill loomed the legendary dark castle, its colossal spires jutting up into the heavy violet swirl of an impending storm. Surrounding the castle as far as the eye could see were labyrinthine clusters of gnarled briars quivering faintly under vicious winds. The fables claimed that a single scratch from the lethal thorns could kill a man in an instant.

As if the terrain itself was not disheartening enough, the flapping of giant wings could suddenly be heard approaching from on high. His first glimpse of the dragon left him breathless. It sailed through the turbulent sky with an effortless aerial grace, obsidian scales gleaming impressively in a flash of branching lightning. The dragon glided to land in the center of a scorched battlefield at the edge of the woods and raised its head to offer a terrifying roar of deadly challenge.

His horse whinnied in fright and threatened to bolt. Dismounting quickly, he lashed the skittish animal to a sturdy branch and prepared to face the dragon alone. He marched out onto the field before his foe, drew his sword, and assumed a fighting stance. A pillar of blue flame erupted from the dragon's gaping maw and Ichigo rolled aside just in time to avoid being roasted alive. The heat from the blast alone warmed his armor and set him sweating as rain began to fall.

It was not an auspicious start to this most imperative contest.

Ichigo belted a roar of his own and lunged, aiming a slice at the left foreleg. The dragon knocked him aside like a puny nuisance and snapped at his boot. A kick to the snout was evaded and five curved talons rent deep slashes across his breastplate with a blinding shower of sparks. The knight fought the beast back with a wild swing of his weapon and swiftly scrabbled to his feet. Another jet of fire singed the leather trousers beneath his chainmail tunic.

Fangs, claws, and whipping tail. Glint of sharpened steel and clatter of heavy shield. Back and forth they fought, drenched by the rain and churning in the mud. No matter how he tried to attack, Ichigo was thwarted at every turn. It was all he could do to accrue shallow scratches and bruised flesh rather than deep gouges and broken bones. The dragon was more than his equal in combat, and Ichigo did not want to die tonight. At the earliest opportunity, he fled the field, hoping that the dragon would not wish to follow him into the close confines of the sprawling forest.

It didn't. Ichigo returned to his nag while the dragon looked on in menacing motionlessness. The message was clear: he would not be pursued but neither would he be allowed to continue beyond that point. The knight wiped rain from his eyes and sheathed his sword. The fight was over for now, but he would return.

* * *

Camp raised amid a clearing in the woods granted succor for a couple of days. Ichigo spent the time recuperating from minor wounds and strategizing for his next clash with the dragon. When he felt he was ready, the knight marched onto the field once more. Only to obtain the same shoddy result. Again and again, he ventured out to trounce the guardian but each time he barely escaped intact.

Yet, Ichigo could not bring himself to give up, however unattainable the task seemed to be.

It was on a bright and glorious spring afternoon that he met the dragon for the seventh time. Those elegant wings spilled air to make a perfect landing before folding tightly along the dragon's sinuous spine. Although they were mortal enemies, Ichigo's sense of wonder never diminished. Of all the books he had read extolling the escapades of his fellow knights, none accurately conveyed the devastating beauty of such an otherworldly creature. Truthfully, he did not wish to slay it anymore than himself! But the dragon stood between him and the most essential undertaking of his life. Many other livelihoods were at stake than his alone.

These conflicting thoughts in mind, he drew his sword and prepared to do battle.

"Halt, sir knight," spoke the dragon, "I wish to parley."

Ichigo nearly dropped his weapon. "Y-you can talk!?"

"Of course. Did you think you were sparring with a brainless beast of burden all along?"

Now that he considered it, the dragon had seemed much cleverer than any opponent he had formerly faced. The point of his upraised sword lowered slightly as his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why speak now when you would not before?"

"I wish to know why you refuse to accept defeat when no one else has ever struggled so stubbornly."

The knight straightened and let the sword hang at his side as he readied a response. He told the dragon of his royal mission, citing such sentiments as duty and honor and purpose. Lastly, Ichigo shared his wish to end the spell for all involved, not just to claim the famed princess for his own.

"I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't be interested if she's a nice person, but I'm mostly in it to help wake those people. They've got family and friends in my city waiting for them."

The dragon blinked its slanted cerulean eyes at him in surprise, tail idly flicking back and forth like a cat as it pondered his words. It hunkered down on its haunches in a nonthreatening pose. Ichigo sheathed his weapon.

"If what you say is true, none have deserved to save the princess more," the dragon hesitantly declared. "Still, I cannot allow it."

"Why not?"

A long pause indicated an unwillingness to answer the simple question. Finally, it said, "There is no shame in conceding to such a formidable monster as I. Countless knights have fled at the very sight of me."

"But you are not a monster at all," Ichigo stepped forward to argue. "You are an intelligent, powerful, and merciful adversary. It would be my greatest honor to fight until one of us emerges victorious."

Such generous praise shivered audibly across the dragon's scales as it regarded the forthright knight. It was a sound like cascading river stones that reminded Ichigo of a calming brook. The dragon looked away and gave a smoking snort of dismissal.

"Be that as it may, you should return home with your new scars of valor and leave this accursed place in your past."

"Respectfully, I must decline."

The dragon met his eyes, rising as it replied, "Then I must accept your challenge, sir knight. Draw your sword."

* * *

Thus began a cordial ritual between the two. Each time they would ferociously collide and invariably call a stalemate. Afterward, they would sink to the ground in exhaustion and converse while they recovered. This went on for so long that Ichigo began to run perilously low on supplies. He could scrounge a few necessities from the forest but he did not have time to hunt and gather for every meal when he was spending so much time with the dragon.

Delaying as long as possible, the knight was eventually forced to prepare for departure. Except he awoke the very next morning to a collection of sundries deposited near his camp. Everything he needed and more stacked in a tidy configuration of barrels, bags, and crates. Rations, water, soap, even a few articles of clothing were included. Enough to keep him going for several more weeks at least. Puzzling over this timely miracle, Ichigo soon concluded that the dragon was responsible for the sustaining shipment.

The knight ended another thrilling skirmish that afternoon with a weary huff, "I yield!"

The dragon spat out a mangled gauntlet—fortunately devoid of his hand—and went to lie on a sparse patch of grass with forelegs crossed under its chin. Ichigo retrieved the gauntlet and heaved a dismal sigh over the bedraggled state of his armor. A glare aimed in the dragon's direction only made him lift his spiky head in obvious pride. He was just glad those teeth and claws rarely raked his skin anymore. Whether that was due to increased experience on his part or reduced aggression on the dragon's, he couldn't have said for sure.

He threw the useless glove aside and tossed its twin down, as well. Ichigo put his nicked blade away, removed his dented helm, and shucked off his partially melted breastplate until he was left with just the mail tunic over his clothes. On second thought, he pulled the chainmail over his head and added it to the pile for good measure. The dragon watched him all the while, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Sure you want to discard all of those? You wouldn't last one minute against me like that."

"Well, maybe you should've included a new set of armor among your donations this morning."

The dragon looked away sharply, proclaiming, "I have no idea to what you are referring, sir knight."

"Big pile of food and water beside my camp…ring any bells?"

"How dare you suggest such nonsense! Why would I take measures to nourish my enemy?"

"Nice try, but I am no fool and you are a poor liar." Ichigo cautiously approached the dragon and sat facing it. "Over the time we have spent together, I've come to believe we would have been close friends under different circumstances. In a way, I believe we already are."

At a loss for dignified response, the dragon shifted uncomfortably and muttered, "Believe what you will, as it pleases you. I care not. It does not change the fact that you are a knight and I am a dragon. We are natural rivals and neither can prevail alongside the other."

"It doesn't have to be that way! Why will you not let me wake the princess and destroy the anchor tethering you to this derelict tower? Then you could go anywhere, do anything you wanted instead of being stuck in such a limiting role. Don't you ever want to see what lies beyond this land? Make novel discoveries and go on grand adventures?"

"I have never wanted anything more," the dragon confessed, swept up in the knight's enthusiasm. Gazing forlornly at the fog-shrouded castle, it said, "I am certain you must have heard all manner of fanciful parables for why Princess Orihime sleeps in that lonely tower. The sad truth is that I am to blame."

"How so?"

Heaving a despondent sigh that sent dust and bits of grass billowing into the air, the dragon weaved a wistful tale of woe. The princess had been a childhood friend long ago. As she came of age, suitors came seeking her hand each day but none were worthy. Most were greedy or lecherous or cruel. The dragon could not bear to see this very sweet and dear friend be _acquired_ like a head of cattle for the sake of her beauty and her father's crown.

Anxiety built as the courting process continued for over a year. When the day had finally come that her intended husband was decided, the dragon stepped in to protect her, for the betrothed was a horrendous bastard of a man who earned her hand simply because he offered the largest dowry to fill the king's dwindling coffers. A window of opportunity arose when the king and queen left to visit the newly built castle across the forest. Because the dragon had been born with a proclivity for spellwork and had studied diligently to become even more proficient, tapping into the most ancient magics to perform a stasis spell was effortless.

"Or so my hubris led me to believe. I was young and more talented than I realized. The entire castle got swept up in the spell along with Orihime, and it could not be reversed. Only a kiss from a truly worthy suitor may wake her and revive the castle's other occupants in kind. In the end, I caused so much suffering when all I wanted was to keep her safe…"

Hearing raw remorse in the dragon's voice, Ichigo could not help but be moved to sympathy. He scooted closer and placed his hand atop folded paws. The dragon jolted slightly but did not reject the gesture.

"You can't judge yourself too harshly. Like you said, you only had her best interest at heart. It was an honest mistake that could've happened to anyone. Well, anyone with insanely strong sorcery skills."

"I…I suppose so. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he sincerely smiled. "I have one question, though: if you used to be human, how did you become a dragon?"

"Ah. This form is merely another type of spell, one that I can enable or disable at will." Before his very eyes, the dragon condensed and reformed into a handsome young man. Appropriately dark-haired with slanted blue eyes, he sat just as the dragon had: legs crossed and stark naked. "My name is Uryuu."

Once the shock faded, the knight grinned and said, "I'm Ichigo. Nice to officially meet you."

"Likewise."

"I'm starved," he abruptly announced. "Are you hungry? Why don't you join me for dinner? Least I can do since it's your food."

"Very well," Uryuu graciously acquiesced. Apparently, he was done denying the delivery.

Ichigo balked as they both stood. "Uh, I'm not complaining or anything but you might want to find some clothes before we head into the woods. It isn't the most flesh-friendly place."

"Oh!" At a hasty snap of his fingers, he was magically dressed in fine white adept's robes. "My apologies. I haven't had to think about that sort of thing in years."

The knight chuckled at Uryuu's discomfiture as he scooped up his wrecked armor and led the way back to camp.

* * *

They spent hours eating and talking and sipping of the castle's aged casks. By the time night fell, they were serenely lounging beside the crackling fire, giddy with laughter and warmth. Ichigo rolled to lie on his back and gaze up at the stars above, thinking he hadn't had this much fun in far too long. The smile would not leave his face and Uryuu was not much better off. He arched his neck to look upside down at the sorcerer across from him. Ichigo snickered to catch him staring.

"Apologies," murmured Uryuu, turning away, "I'm still not used to seeing you without all that steel."

"Considering the ferocity with which you've been mauling my suit, one might think you eager to see me out of it."

"Well, 'one' would be wrong," he declared. "I was only doing my job."

The knight suddenly sprang from his pallet to perch astride the 'fearsome dragon' and capture his slender wrists. Uryuu gave a gasp of surprise and tensed beneath him, but he did not resist the hold. Ichigo leaned closer until he could see the glimmering indigo discs of his eyes shrink against a black bloom.

"What if I were to do _my_ job, here and now?"

"Do you really think you could ever best me? Your ego is showing, sir knight."

"I like my chances." Ichigo haughtily smiled, his gaze roaming over the man. Thumbs rubbed lightly at the delicate skin of Uryuu's wrists as he observed, "This form is much more vulnerable than your usual attire, after all."

"Yet, far from defenseless, I assure you."

His hands began to radiate an ethereal light the same hazardous hue as his dragon-flame. The knight could feel its heat nipping at his fingers in warning. Ichigo slid them down, pushing loose sleeves toward his elbows, but the fire only spread further.

Releasing the sorcerer's arms, he relented, "All right, point taken."

"Then you understand that if you are able to touch me, it is only because I permit you to do so?"

As rapidly as they had ignited, the blue flames were safely doused with twin puffs of steam. Uryuu smirked at his astonished expression. Ichigo huffed a short laugh layered with awe.

"Amazing. Now I see why no one has ever made it to that stupid castle. Who could ever hope to break past you, human _or_ dragon?"

"'Twould be a legendary feat, to be sure, but if anyone could manage it…"

The knight's smile widened to a grin. "Is that a compliment, Uryuu?"

"Decidedly not." Glancing off in the general direction of the woods at his left, he mumbled, "Though if that is how you wish to take it, I cannot stop you."

"I find your faith in me truly inspiring," Ichigo teased. "Don't be alarmed when I fight with fresh enthusiasm tomorrow."

"I'll show you 'fresh enthusiasm'…"

He laughed even as he was shoved to the grass in turn. Uryuu planted him to the ground by his shoulders, triumph gleaming in his eyes. Ichigo made no move to displace him. His hands rose to lightly grasp Uryuu's as he whispered a familiar phrase into the poignant hush between them.

"I yield."

Amusement dissipating, Uryuu withdrew to lie beside him instead. There was a perturbed divot marring his brow when Ichigo turned to regard him. He didn't answer right away when asked what was wrong. Uryuu sighed and draped an arm over his eyes as if to block out the whole world around him.

"It…it has been so long since I have spoken to anyone like this. I had almost forgotten how it feels to have a friend."

"Have you been alone since the spell was cast?" He gave an affirmative hum and Ichigo cringed. "But it has been nearly two decades! And you…"

An important observation occurred to him then. The knight raised up to move his obscuring arm and appraise Uryuu properly. The man did not appear to be much older than Ichigo himself, if even that. He reached out to brush sleek midnight hair from an unlined face. His skin was smooth and supple without a hint of the years he claimed. It attained a pink tinge under the scrutiny and Uryuu pushed his hand away in embarrassment.

"I don't look my age, if that is what you're wondering."

"How!?"

"Magic," he reminded. "Time isn't an issue when you are a seasoned spellcaster. The enchantment is actually quite simple to apply and easier to maintain. Even if it came at a great cost, I would still pay it; I must stay agile and strong to ensure Orihime's protection."

That was sensible enough. Ichigo could personally attest to the spell's effectiveness in relation to those two categories. He rested his head on a propped palm and pondered this new information. Thinking about the various tribulations Uryuu had endured on the princess' behalf sparked an unpleasant epiphany.

"To go to such dire lengths, you must really love her."

"Since my father was appointed as the king's Master Enchanter, I was raised in the castle. Orihime and I knew each other from infancy, spending much of our time learning and playing together. We were inseparable for much of our lives."

"Maybe I'm missing something here, but if you were so crazy about each other why didn't _you_ just marry her?"

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Uryuu watched the crescent moon overhead and idly traced the circular ridge of a silver button atop his sternum as he explained, "For one, the king would never have allowed such a thing. Magic is 'good' only as far as it is useful. Beyond that, it is a dangerous abomination to be curtailed and contained. Having a sorcerer on the throne would be the epitome of sacrilege."

"Based on what I've seen, I can't argue the 'dangerous' part. Yet, knowing you as well as I do, I can confidently say you're no threat to anyone who doesn't deserve it. In all the years you've been guarding the castle, have you ever killed any of the warriors who came to challenge you?"

His swirling fingertip stilled as he met Ichigo's righteous gaze. "Never."

"Despite suspecting that a lethal pretense would dissuade so many others from ever traveling here?"

"How could I take a life just to preserve another when there is a humane alternative?"

"See? I've met monks less compassionate than you."

Uryuu protested with a shake of his head but couldn't fully suppress a demure smile. "Even if all others thought as you do, I never desired to marry Orihime. The affection we shared was as siblings, not lovers."

The declaration eased a subtle discomfort Ichigo had not noticed he harbored until it was absent. He was eager to leave that subject behind in favor of returning to more exhilarating horizons.

"So, this immortality spell you mentioned," he innocuously began, "Any chance you could cast it on someone else?"

"I could, but you would not thank me for it. Traversing eternity unchanging while those around you continue to age and inexorably die is no boon."

"But—"

Uryuu sat up to speak with an emphatic gravity, "Trust me, you do not want this! I have already known depths of loneliness so vast as to crush a lesser mind and I haven't even surpassed a normal human lifespan."

"That's because you are spending it _alone_ , out here. Anyone would be miserable under these conditions, indefinite youth or no!" It was his turn to rise from his lazy recline in lieu of solemnity. He clasped the man's shoulder and keenly implored, "If you would just let me end the spell, you wouldn't have to be alone anymore. You could go wherever you wanted, _be with_ whoever you wanted."

An immense melancholy settled into Uryuu's features. His eyes closed and his head dipped as though laden with an enormous burden. The burden of all those souls sequestered in the castle for the sake of one woman's happiness. Ichigo now recognized, however, that for the sorcerer she represented all that was benevolent and pure in the world. Princess Orihime had given him unconditional joy and he wanted to give it right back to her in kind. But this wasn't the way. Not with so many others unwillingly ensconced in her preservative bubble.

"I…I am truly sorry, Ichigo, but I still cannot allow you into the castle."

With that, Uryuu went back to lie on his pallet, purposely facing away from him. It was a plain indication that he was not in the mood for talking anymore.

* * *

The dragon was gone when he awoke the next morning, likely on one of the patrols Ichigo had spotted him routinely taking. In Uryuu's previous place stood an impeccable suit of golden armor held aloft by twine and a sturdy wooden stand. One glimpse of its splendor and the knight's breath was robbed from him. He hurried over to inspect it and found the set to be even more remarkable up close. His own awestruck countenance was reflected in the golden mirror of its burnished surface as reverent fingertips caressed elegant embossment. There was something extra thrumming in the metal, warm and effulgent and _powerful_ like the sun. The ornate sword strapped around the breastplate's waist was similarly laced with indelible enchantment. Ichigo had never seen its make before but he instantly knew he would be nigh impervious once equipped. It was unquestionably the most meaningful and generous gift he had ever received.

His hand left the precious piece to form a fist at his side as emotion swelled.

"Uryuu, you idiot," he grumbled.

As if he could bring himself to fight the sorcerer after last night's revelations. Dagger to his throat, Ichigo might even admit he hadn't been bringing his best form to their scuffles for weeks. It was difficult to swing a blade with serious intent at someone you cared for and admired. He could never forgive himself if he so much as chipped a single scale. Neither could he leave things as they were to return home.

Ichigo had no clue which path to choose but all roads led back to the dragon eventually.

Impatient to confront Uryuu, he hurried through his typical morning procedures. He shot a glare at the radiant ensemble and his gnawed armor alike, but decided to fasten the new sword around his hips. Mostly because he felt naked without a weapon and also because it was a goddamn masterpiece far too beautiful to leave behind. The fact that the textured hilt fit his grip _flawlessly_ summoned an appreciative groan against his will.

A hasty jaunt through the well-traveled forest trail led him to the battlefield that had come to represent something of a second home to him. Ichigo jerked to an astounded halt as he noticed it was already occupied. On the distant edge of the field danced the dragon with another knight. The two waged bitter war like he and Uryuu hadn't since their first few encounters. Except this knight didn't fight like him. This knight resorted to flinging dirt into the dragon's eyes and throwing heavy rocks at the sensitive snout for an easy edge. This knight was determined to _win_ , having eschewed the courteous code of conduct. Which was only the paragon of noble knighthood, no big deal.

Ichigo was sprinting forth before he even made a conscious choice, calling out once he was near enough to be heard. The hostile figures separated upon his urgent interruption. Both were panting heavily as though they had been at it for a fair while. Although Uryuu didn't appear to be injured in any way, he was kicking himself for taking the time to eat breakfast instead of coming straight to his side. He knew the dragon could handle himself just fine without interference but the notion of not being there to help if necessary disturbed him deeply.

"Are you all right?" Ichigo anxiously asked his friend.

"Well as can be expected, given that I've been tousling with a bloody _dragon_ all morning."

Turning to the presumptuous man, he barked, "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I've come to slay the monster and rescue the princess, of course! Same as you, I imagine." Looking him over, the foreign knight's tone attained a puzzled lilt as he asked, "What happened to your armor?"

His gaze skipped to the dragon's, knowing he was probably wondering the very same thing. He hadn't thought about how rude his refusal to don the superb set might be perceived until that moment. Words could not express how grateful he was for the humbling present, but he quickly inhaled with the intention to try.

"I—"

"Never mind that, squire. Have you come to join the fray? I've got the creature winded and weakened. We can surely take its head together! I'll even give you a go with the girl, too, after I've had a bit of fun with her."

Jaw clenched in restrained fury, he ripped the sword from its scabbard and pressed it unerringly to the knight's quivering jugular.

" _Leave_."

"W-what foul treachery is this!?" he cried. "I was here first! Y-you can't just steal the glory right from under me!"

Ichigo lowered his sword to step forward and seize the man's throat instead, subverting the urge to throttle him by the grace of self-control he hadn't realized he possessed.

"What 'glory' is there in harming such a magnificent being as he? Your life isn't worth a _fraction_ of his, you wretched, conniving scoundrel!" He threw the simpering knight to the ground in a clattering heap and snarled, "You will never get anywhere near him as long as I breathe. So, flee while you may still do so intact!"

"Okay, I'll go!" the blackguard vowed as he skittered backward in dread, "I'll go!"

Disgrace dealt with, he focused his attention back on Uryuu. No sooner had he turned his back than the knight gave a contemptuous holler and stabbed his sword straight at an unguarded heart. But the killing blow was never struck, for the dragon dove forward and unfurled the diaphanous canopy of his wings to envelop Ichigo in shifting shadows. The violent tang of copper burst nauseatingly into the air as copious splashes of scarlet blood painted the earth.

The wounded dragon's roar was deafening and Ichigo was blind with rage, but his magic-enhanced sword found its target with seamless precision. The blade flared red-hot and a ghastly slash appeared across the knight's silver chestplate, soft as a pat of warm butter. Because Ichigo's reflexive riposte had been shallow, so was the gash it inflicted. Sniveling from minor pain and terrified of that mystifyingly lustrous weapon, the bastard begged for his life.

"Please, I beseech you, spare me! Spare me!"

Keeping the razor edge poised at the man's center, Ichigo risked a glance over his shoulder to check on his friend. His left wing was bleeding badly but he was still standing, which was a nominally reassuring sign.

"Uryuu?" he prompted with a pinch of panic in his tone.

Blue eyes that had squeezed shut in agony cracked open as he rasped, "I'll live."

"Holy mother of all, that thing can talk!?"

Ichigo whipped his head around to retort, "Of course he can, you pathetic court jester reject! Did you think you were fighting a mindless animal?"

Something like a strangled snort could be heard behind him but he kept his glower on the man kneeling at his feet. Ichigo sorely wanted to plunge the sword between his ribs like the knight had tried to do to him first. Normally, he wasn't the bloodthirsty type but this heathen had hurt Uryuu and he demanded satisfaction for the crime! He raised his arm to ready a fatal slice.

"Ichigo, don't!"

Swiveling to stare at him in shock, he grit his teeth to see Uryuu shake his head in confirmation. Despite suffering such a severe injury, the empathetic nitwit still wanted Ichigo to spare the scoundrel's life. Despite suffering such unquenchable wrath, Ichigo obeyed. Before his sword was fully sheathed, the knight was thanking them profusely and making a mad dash for the very distant hills.

"Send word to the king," he shouted after the coward, "No one touches this dragon without going through me!"

Said untouchable dragon snorted again, but it transformed into a sharp gasp. Ichigo was at his side in an instant, asking too many questions and fretting over the wicked tear in his wing's delicate membrane. In a flash of feverish insight, he suggested Uryuu shift human so the wound would be smaller and more manageable. While the sorcerer reversed his shapechanging spell, Ichigo ripped a broad strip from the hem of his linen shirt as a makeshift bandage. And when Uryuu slumped—human and _so pale_ —into his arms he carefully lowered them to the grass and frantically set about stanching the blood yet flowing from his left shoulder.

"Don't worry…I'll heal it. Just need…a moment."

"You're going to be fine, Uryuu. I've got you."

His shaking hands were coated in crimson and the sorcerer was terrifyingly cold but Ichigo breathed through it. He could see Uryuu's lips moving in silent invocation of the promised healing spell. All he had to do was wait a little longer. After a handful of the most nerve-racking minutes of his life, it was over. Ichigo watched him inhale, open his eyes, and exhale. Color and heat began to suffuse his skin as the charm took rapid effect. Relief poured over him like a warm summer storm and he held onto Uryuu as tightly as he dared.

"Ichigo, I—"

Whatever Uryuu planned to say was lost when he was pitched forward without warning. Ichigo had to examine the mended shoulder for his own peace of mind. Not that he didn't have faith in the sorcerer's abilities but this was serious business! He peeled the sticky, carnage-soaked linen away and gingerly glided his fingers over perfectly restored flesh. Lingering doubts assuaged, he let Uryuu straighten in the loose cradle of his limbs and fixed him with an aggravated gaze.

"Never do that to me again! What were you thinking jumping in front of his sword like that!?"

"I guess I was thinking one of us is a _dragon_ with supernatural healing techniques and the other is an impulsive knight without his _armor_."

Chastened, he reluctantly acknowledged, "Well…that's fair. But all I could see was your blood spilling and it felt like my stomach was full of rocks and my chest was going to explode and my brain was _screaming_ at me to make it stop and—"

"I'm sorry." Taking Ichigo's hand, he earnestly added, "And thank you, for what you said to him. For a second, I was worried you might…"

"Worried I might, what?" he pressed with a bewildered frown.

"Nothing," sighed Uryuu, adopting a tiny smile. "Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine a day would come when a knight would protect the dragon."

"Of course I'd protect you, idiot! I care about you too much to let some lame-ass knave take you away from me."

He stared up at Ichigo for an unnervingly lengthy interval. The smile fell away, replaced with a serious silence so ominous that it soured fresh relief with acrid foreboding. Just as he was gearing up to ask about it, Uryuu spoke.

"There cannot possibly be another so worthy of waking Orihime than you. I will lead you through the castle to her bedside myself if that is still your wish."

Words left him. Every last one. He couldn't even begin to articulate a response to that offer because it was simultaneously everything he had been striving for and the very furthest thing from his mind. Ichigo looked toward the ghostly castle and thought of the tenants resting within. Maybe it was time to undo what had been done. Uryuu certainly deserved to be liberated from his own sustained guilt and self-loathing. Ichigo could do that for him. Absolve the transgression with a chaste press of his lips. Free him from the gilded cage of his own creation.

Reading the poorly concealed sorrow in Uryuu's eyes tipped him over the breaking point.

"Take me to her."

* * *

The poison-laced briar vines bent and writhed to allow them passage unmolested. Nary a stray thorn dared to catch in the wispy fabric of Uryuu's robes. The ones he had remembered to conjure this time without Ichigo's teasing remarks. Which was just as well because the knight did not feel like teasing anyone anytime soon. He felt sick to his stomach and cold to his core. He felt as if they were marching down to the gallows rather than ascending to a prized pinnacle.

The castle was eerily quiet inside. Not a sound could be heard aside from their measured footsteps. Not a word was voiced as they crossed great halls and greater staircases. Pausing in one of the rooms just long enough to rinse dried blood away, Uryuu led him to the tallest tower where the princess slept. Finally, they reached her room. Halting at the door, his guide pushed it open and gestured invitation to walk through it alone. He did his best to avoid meeting the knight's searching glance but failed horribly. The look they shared only made the ruthless wrenching in Ichigo's gut all the more pronounced.

He shuffled into the room, dimly lit by early afternoon sunlight streaming in through partially parted curtains. A canopied four-poster bed stood against the far wall. Trepidation stinging in his veins, Ichigo approached and drew back the drapes shading a prone young woman. Orihime was as attractive as the stories swore and more. If she were half as sweet and virtuous as Uryuu boasted, anyone would be lucky to have her as a wife.

Ichigo sank onto the downy mattress beside her and monitored her tranquil countenance. This was the part where he kissed her, he knew, but it was no simple matter. He thought about what would happen if he woke her, the ways his life would change. He could be king, surrounded by riches and renown for the rest of his days. He could command all the kingdom's considerable resources at his discretion. He could be loved by Orihime. He could have hale and hearty children with her, little princes and princesses. What more could a man ask for?

Leaning closer to her, Ichigo bowed his head and shut his eyes.

Yet, when he shut his eyes he didn't see the princess' smiling face and their happy fairy tale future together. He saw Uryuu: brilliant, vivacious, gorgeous, pensive, and sad. Ichigo forced clenched hands to relax and slowly exhaled. His pulse was racing not with excitement but with chilling, visceral fear because this wasn't right. This wasn't what he wanted.

The knight stood up and strode into the hall. Uryuu was standing in exactly the same spot, eyes shut tight and arms drawn about himself. His breathing was quick and light, uneven with apprehension.

"Uryuu."

Startled, he looked up and asked, "What happened? I can still feel the spell under effect."

"I couldn't do it. I didn't dare try because I don't want the princess and I don't want the crown. I want to be with _you_."

He physically staggered from the shock of Ichigo's bold decree, latching onto a nearby life-size granite statue for support.

"H-how could you…say something so _absurd_? Hopeless imbecile! Get back in there and break the hex right this instant!"

"No."

The distance between them dwindled regardless of Uryuu's half-hearted attempt to expand it. He resorted to pushing Ichigo back when he crept too close.

"You have to end it. It has to be you, Ichigo."

"Why? There must be other men worthy of her and fit to be king. Someone will break the spell eventually; it doesn't have to be me. I know a few fellows back home who might be perfect."

"You're not thinking clearly," he adamantly asserted. "No sane person would choose a part-time dragon and full-time sorcerer over a princess!"

He grabbed Uryuu firmly. It was a potentially deadly gamble, given his propensity for sprouting flames, but it had to be done. Since he wasn't instantaneously incinerated, Ichigo reeled him in until their gazes locked.

"Then I must be crazy, because I'll have the dragon-sorcerer or no one at all."

And he kissed Uryuu quite passionately to prove it.

* * *

They stood by as one, then a second, and finally a third of Ichigo's carefully selected friends stepped forth to kiss the princess. Uryuu shifted in place and made a discomfited sound around a bitten thumbnail.

"I hope their oral hygiene is adequate," he muttered and Ichigo chuckled.

Then they both gasped as Orihime began to stir. Uryuu shivered to feel the spell dissolving throughout the entire castle as the last man reared back in surprise. Chad's eyes met those of the waking princess and in that charged moment Ichigo knew it was destiny. Orihime loved to eat and Chad was a baker. What better match could be made in all the lands?

"I was hoping it'd be him," Ichigo quietly told his sorcerer. "Chad is the kindest and strongest person I know, so you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"If he is a friend of yours, I am not worried," claimed Uryuu with an affectionate smile. Ichigo could not keep himself from leaning in to taste it.

"Hey!" Renji, the second to try, rudely interrupted their kiss, "Will you two tone it down? Some of us are still single, y'know."

Within moments, the castle began to come alive with activity as the slumbering denizens were awakened at long last. He took Uryuu's hand, squeezing lightly as they exchanged an excited, meaningful look.

"Now that's taken care of, can we talk about that immortality thing again?"

The sorcerer smirked. Ichigo knew this was one battle he would definitely win.

THE END


	3. Stroke of Midnight

**Stroke of Midnight**

* * *

There is never enough _time_. Between the extra courses he petitioned to take and the part-time job that is steadily turning into something resembling a career, Uryuu can never seem to catch up. There are three exams coming up, a massive term paper due Friday, and his boss has been nagging him about working some weekend shifts to help with extra summer traffic. To make things that much worse, his professor just sent an email rescheduling a complex laboratory experiment for next week instead of next month.

Even taking a long breath and slowly releasing it doesn't begin to take the edge off his mild panic attack. Uryuu gathers up his laptop, textbooks, and pack of trusty multi-colored highlighters. The library's soothing atmosphere is no longer having the intended effect on his fragile mental state. Keeping a level head and exerting his time-management skills to the max simply won't cut it this time. Uryuu needs a miracle. He needs a break. He needs…

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!"

He needs to not get slammed into by some blind, boulder-bodied buffoon racing through the hall. Rubbing his aching head and adjusting skewed glasses, Uryuu glances up to see none other than his former organic chemistry TA's contrite visage. Most of his irritation dissipates—replaced with the typical mixture of excitement and discomfiture—as he recognizes the man who has been his first and only university crush since they met in class nearly a year ago. As usual, he does his very best to tuck those feelings aside and act like a normal classmate.

"In a hurry, Kurosaki?"

"Sorry," he apologizes again, "Someone said they saw you leaving and I didn't want to miss you."

That raises Uryuu's eyebrows and heart rate alike. He asks, "You were looking for _me_?"

"I wanted to ask if you had plans this Saturday. I was hoping…maybe you'd like to go to a party with me?"

His response takes some time to articulate. Although Uryuu would categorize his relationship with Kurosaki Ichigo as 'friendly', they are more akin to casual acquaintances. Occasionally running into each other, they pause to chat now and then but it rarely leads to anything more involved. They have never even exchanged phone numbers! A personal invite to a party seems to be skipping quite a few steps on the social staircase.

"I…I would like to but I can't. Unfortunately, I stay very busy even during summer terms."

"Oh." Kurosaki's face falls in obvious disappointment. It sparks a matching twinge in Uryuu's chest. "Of course, I should've guessed that. Every time I see you around campus you seem really preoccupied."

"It's just that I foolishly signed up for twenty hours this semester and my part-time job is incredibly demanding right now…"

Kurosaki shakes his head and forces a strained smile. "No, I totally understand. It's no big deal. I'll get out of your way and let you get back to, uh, whatever it was you were doing. Sorry again for bumping into you, Ishida."

An intolerable pulse of regret hits Uryuu as he watches the guy of his dreams shuffle dejectedly past. Did Kurosaki just ask him on a date? Could it be possible? The chances are slim at best, but Uryuu can't bear the thought of missing such an opportunity. Gods know he will never scrounge up the courage to ask. With this thought in mind, he puts all thoughts of what he 'should' do aside and hurries to catch Kurosaki while he can.

"Wait! I probably can't go, but…" The hopeful tint to brown eyes instantly firms Uryuu's resolve. "If I can somehow get out of work _and_ finish my essay early, I could try to meet you there for an hour or so."

This time the smile isn't strained at all. Kurosaki encourages, "All right, I'll take it. Here, let me write down the address for you."

"Or you could text it to me," shyly mumbles Uryuu.

"Sure." Taking a step closer, Kurosaki is practically grinning as he pulls out his cell phone. "What's your number?"

* * *

The next day, Uryuu reads his phone and smiles for the millionth time since he gave Kurosaki his number. One day and they already have a lengthy scroll of witty dialogue going. Despite taking up precious moments of his limited time, he can't keep himself from indulging their sporadic conversation between editing paragraphs of his term paper. Every new syllable has him yearning that much harder for the party tomorrow night. Not because Uryuu is that into drinking and dancing and suffocating in a frat house full of horny teens more interested in getting laid than getting an education, but because he can finally hang out with Kurosaki in an informal situation.

Because for the first time in the three years since he enrolled here, Uryuu might get to actually _enjoy his life_.

"Wasting time on your phone? And here I dropped by to congratulate you on your academic dedication of late."

Who is he kidding? With a father like Ryuuken, there can be no room for extraneous emotions like happiness and levity.

"I was checking my email," Uryuu half-fibs. "I'm almost finished with this essay and I still have two hours before my evening shift at the shop."

"If you have time for email, you have time to study. I gave you that phone for emergencies, not distractions."

"According to you, anything short of a natural disaster would qualify as a 'distraction'! What is so wrong with having friends who like to talk with me now and then?"

Frown deepening impossibly, Ryuuken marches into the room and snatches the cell from his son's loose grasp. He takes one look at the screen, boasting a silly text from Kurosaki, and freezes in fury.

" _Friends_ are the worst distraction of all. They steal your time, sap your energy, and keep you from achieving all that is your due. Clearly, I made a mistake in giving this to you if this is how you choose to abuse it. Finish the semester with flawless grades and I _might_ consider returning it."

His father dealt the lethal blow and swept from the room after a lingering glare. Uryuu's protestations stuck in his throat. He knew it was useless to argue. The punishment would only grow the more he attempted to debate it. A wash of helpless resentment and injustice had him slouching in his chair. The press of shaking fingers to paling face did little to soothe in the wake of devastation. Not only is he unable talk to Kurosaki off-campus anymore, but Uryuu will not be able to attend the party as he hadn't gotten the address yet. Anyway, his essay is not finished, his shift at work isn't covered, and he has no mode of transportation even if he knew where to go. Really, it was a doomed prospect from the start.

The worst part is he can't tell Kurosaki why he won't be there, particularly since their messages have been implying he will find a way to attend. He could be waiting for Uryuu to show all night, looking for him in the crowd and texting him to no avail. Kurosaki will never ask him out again after this, if it's even a date at all. Now he'll never know.

* * *

A dusty box full of mostly expired sweets pretty much sums up his state of mind at the moment. Uryuu marks a black slash through a barcode and tosses another candy bar atop the 'discard' pile. He jots a quick note on his clipboard and sighs.

Attending that party with Kurosaki was a long-shot to begin with and he is beyond used to disappointment. Still, it roils inside the pit of Uryuu's stomach all through his shift at the candy shop. If his boss notices a change in his demeanor, Urahara doesn't mention it. He approaches Uryuu halfway through his evening shift, gesturing for him to stop counting inventory so they can speak. Setting the clipboard on top of a narrow table and tucking the Sharpie into an apron pocket, he courteously gives his full attention.

"I haven't forgotten yesterday's request to shorten your hours tonight, you know," the man genially begins, leaning against a stack of boxes propped against the storeroom wall. "I just got word from Jinta, so you'll be free to go as soon as he comes in."

"Jinta-kun agreed to cover me?" Uryuu incredulously asks.

Urahara glances askance. "Well, I may have firmly reminded him of the numerous times _you_ have covered _his_ shifts on short-notice without complaint."

"I…thank you, Urahara-san, but I don't need the coverage anymore."

"Why not?" he frowns, easily reading Uryuu's dejected tone. "Has something happened?"

A cynical bastardization of laughter escapes before he can smother it. "Nothing I care to burden you with. Just the usual limitations of being Ishida Ryuuken's son."

Anyone else might pause in puzzlement, but Urahara knows his father well enough to get the picture from that sentence alone. He nods sagely and guides Uryuu through an archway to sit at the makeshift breakroom table, handing over a clean hand towel to clear clinging dust from his clothes and hair. Sinking across from him, Urahara affixes soulful grey eyes to crestfallen blue.

"Tell me."

So, Uryuu does. Working with Urahara for the past three years on top of his being a family friend most of his life makes him easier to talk to than most. Uryuu briefly explains how trying it is living under Ryuuken's iron fist when all he truly wants is to be a normal university student with friends and free time and occasional fun. It doesn't seem like that much to ask, considering how hard he works at living up to his father's standards. Is one party such a heinous request? Doesn't Uryuu deserve just one night off from the constant pressures of perfection?

Urahara listens in considerate silence until his final words are uttered with a hint of self-pitying waver. He doesn't like this side of himself any more than Ryuuken does, but at least he can forgive himself for a dash of fallibility.

"And I finally got invited to a real college party," he morosely concludes, staring at the fingers interlocked in his lap. "I worked so hard on that essay to get it done on time but…it was all for nothing. I should have known better than to dream beyond my means."

When he risks a glance at his boss, Urahara is wearing a rare expression of irritation. It vanishes in a blink, though remnants of the anomaly remain in his tone, "For all that Ishida-san does well, raising children is arguably not among them."

"What?" blurts Uryuu, shocked at this bold assertion. "Are…are you saying you agree with me?"

"Of course, you poor young man! Never been to a party at your age? Unacceptable! Something must be done." This last is uttered darkly and with a hint of speculation. Urahara rubs his chin in thought for a moment before snapping his fingers in revelation. "I've got it! Follow me, Ishida-kun, we'll be closing the shop early tonight."

"You're joking!"

"Absolutely not." When Uryuu doesn't rise from the chair on his own, Urahara takes his arm and drags him along, flipping out lights along the way to the front door. As he locks it from the outside, he says, "I'll get you to that party if it's the last thing I do."

Verging on panic, he politely objects, "I appreciate the gesture, but Ryuuken—"

"I'll handle your father."

"Even if that were possible, which I am almost certain it isn't, I don't have the address without my phone."

"You're going to steal it back. I can help with that, too."

Rendered momentarily speechless at the sudden turn of events, Uryuu finds himself being pushed into the passenger seat of a car parked behind the shop. He regains his voice by the time Urahara gets in beside him and starts the engine.

"Urahara-san, this is crazy! It will never work. And what about Jinta-kun? He'll be so confused when he shows up to find the shop closed."

"I'm sure he will find something to occupy those four hours with instead of working for me."

"But…"

They continue like this for most of the short ride to Uryuu's house. Every issue has a ready solution, every worry a quick reassurance. He has no idea why Urahara is taking it upon himself to become his savior, but he is intensely grateful despite his many protests. Truthfully, he has already been so good to Uryuu that inconveniencing the man is the last thing he wants to do. Yet, he is desperate and attending this party would mean so much to him.

By the time they pull into his driveway, Uryuu is delicately optimistic.

"Is there a back way up to your room?"

"There is a tree, yes, and my window is unlatched. I think I can get in without much noise."

"Good. Sneak in while I distract your dad downstairs. Just keep in mind that he'll kick me out by midnight. He's the only adult I know who has such a strict bed time."

"That still doesn't solve the problem of my phone being hidden in his study somewhere."

"I'll call your cell at exactly seven-fifteen so you can try to find it." Urahara stops him from getting out of the car to add, "Wear something you wouldn't normally. No vests or white button-ups. Do you have jeans? Tighter is better."

At that, Uryuu splutters unintelligibly. Has his boss guessed that this is more of a date than anything casual, or…On second thought, he doesn't want to know what Urahara is thinking.

"I…yes, I own jeans."

"When you find your phone, send me a picture of the outfit. This is far too important to take chances on a slap-dash attempt."

"A-all right, I will."

"Actually," he starts the engine again and immediately reverses from the driveway. "We're going shopping."

"What!? No, that isn't neces—"

"The party starts at eight, right? Plenty of time."

"Yes, but—"

"Don't worry about the cost. A friend of mine owns a boutique and she won't mind lending us a few stylish articles."

"Urahara-san, I can't accept this much! There's really no need to go so far over something like this. It's enough that you've listened to me complain. I can handle the rest on my own."

All he gets is a mysterious smile as Urahara eases on the accelerator.

* * *

Less than two hours later, Uryuu is standing in front of a large two-story house wearing new clothes more expensive than his laptop, his retrieved cell phone safely nestled in a pocket, and Urahara's borrowed car keys in the other. His heart is threatening to burst from his chest as he steps up to the door and rings the bell. The bass-heavy music of a live band can be heard emanating through the sturdy structure. It spills out, energetic and inviting, as someone opens the front door. Uryuu opens his mouth to offer some excuse for his presence there but the jovial student merely ushers him inside, pointing him in the direction of a nearby keg.

Alcohol holds no appeal for him. What he truly wants is to find Kurosaki, but the room is flooded with students and swathed in darkness. Mood lighting in the form of colorful string lights provides most of the ambience. He makes his way further into the house, searching in each room for the one person here he wants to see. A few familiar faces jump out at him, classmates and club acquaintances, but no sign of his maybe-date. Kurosaki hasn't responded to his questioning text, either.

Ten minutes in, Uryuu finds a corner to stand in and gather his thoughts. So far, it isn't looking good. At this point he is wondering if inviting him to the party was a prank. Get the solitary nerd to endure an overwhelming social experience for a laugh later. He doesn't know Kurosaki well enough to rule it out. He doesn't know Kurosaki well at all.

About a year ago, Uryuu walked into his organic chemistry lab and promptly dropped the textbook, calculator, and stack of notebooks he was carrying in his arms because his raggedy old messenger bag had ripped halfway through the day. Stooping to pick it up, he was startled when another pair of hands reached out to help. A handsome young man with pensive eyebrows and vibrant hair passed his notebooks back with a casual word of greeting. He smiled when Uryuu stared in awe rather than take the offered items.

That was how they met. The semester that Kurosaki instructed the o-chem lab was his favorite to date. Uryuu never missed a session, nor an opportunity to strike up conversation with the 'cool' grad student. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one in Kurosaki's fan club. When competition with the women of his class became too heated, he gracefully bowed out. Part of him always wondered what may have been, but Uryuu has always been too focused on academics to worry about romance.

Until tonight.

Tonight, he will think of nothing but romance. He will take chances and make overtures. Uryuu will find out for sure one way or another whether he has a chance with Kurosaki, if only so he can finally put this infernal transfixion behind him. That is, if he can ever find the man.

In the meantime, he decides he might as well enjoy the party. Urahara made him promise to dance and try to have fun, so that's exactly what he does. Emerging from the safety of a corner, Uryuu finds a smaller group of students and tentatively starts to move in time with the music. It is unbelievably embarrassing and awkward but he does it anyway because he must. Because this is his one night off from being the dutiful student and the diligent worker. It's his sole chance to live the carefree side of being young and untethered.

It isn't quite what Uryuu expected but he can't say he hates it. The band is talented and the music suits his tastes. No one is pointing and laughing at his sad dancing attempts. He even makes eye contact with a few people. A nearby girl smiles and leans in to trade idle party chatter while they dance. One of her friends comes over to join in and soon Uryuu has a little group welcoming him in. The novelty of it all astounds him. To think it would be this easy to integrate into student culture and share in their experience!

"Ishida?"

Hearing his name called from directly behind him has Uryuu whirling around in surprise. An akimbo elbow knocks the full drink from a loose grip and suddenly his shirt is drenched in some sweet-smelling alcoholic beverage. Kurosaki is already apologizing before the last drop lands.

"No, it's my faul—"

"I'll fix it!"

Kurosaki grabs his hand and tugs him toward the staircase in the next room. The music's insistent volume diminishes as they trundle up the stairs and down the hall to a closed door on the left. He pushes it open, immediately locking it behind them, and leads Uryuu through another door into a small bathroom. Only then does Kurosaki release his hand and turn to face him.

"Should we be in here?" asks Uryuu. "Isn't this someone's bedroom?"

"Yeah, it's my friend, Renji's. He's a member of this fraternity. But he won't mind, I promise." Kurosaki looks him over for a moment and quietly requests, "Take off your shirt?"

Uryuu glances down at the liquid threatening to stain this ridiculously pricey garment and swallows. What kind of horrible employee would he be to ruin his thoughtful boss' gift the same day he received it? Hands rise to the first button even as blood rises to tint his cheeks because he isn't wearing an undershirt and he really wasn't expecting to strip in front of Kurosaki tonight. Seeming to perceive Uryuu's discomfort, he focuses his attention on filling the sink with warm water.

"What was in the drink?" he asks as he hands over the shirt. "Depending on the ingredients, washing it may be a lost cause."

"It was just vodka and ginger ale. Should come right out."

Offering a vague hum of agreement, he self-consciously folds his arms over his bare chest and watches Kurosaki gently scrub the fabric with plain hand soap. Then Uryuu notices he is also being observed via the mirror. Their eyes meet across the glass. Kurosaki breaks contact and clears his throat. It's up to Uryuu to fill the awkward silence, then.

"Have you been here long? I searched but couldn't find you."

"I got here about an hour ago," Kurosaki slowly admits. He shuts off the water and leaves the shirt to soak in the sink, straightening to regard Uryuu. "I was…hiding, I guess."

"Hiding?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Avoiding Uryuu's direct gaze, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Then he huffs a self-deprecating laugh and says, "I was nervous. I thought alcohol might help but it just made my thoughts even more jumbled."

"What were you so nervous about?"

Surprised, Kurosaki finally looks up. "About seeing you. What else?"

The confession takes Uryuu aback. In his wildest dreams, he could never imagine someone like Kurosaki being nervous over him for any reason. Uryuu is the nervous one here! His cynical side wonders if this is a joke at his expense, but the reality is Kurosaki has been nothing but forthright with him since they met. Even now, he is bashfully eyeing Uryuu and awaiting his reaction.

In the end, all he can do is fight a giddy smile and ask, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Kurosaki smiles back. "If you knew how long I've been wanting to ask you out…"

"So, why didn't you?"

"Because I'm an idiot, apparently. And because you're always so busy."

That sucks the levity right out of Uryuu. Reminded of his stringent daily life, he has to wonder what he thinks he's doing here. Even if Kurosaki is serious about him, Ryuuken would never allow it. Uryuu can't have friends, much less a _boy_ friend. Just for the hell of it, he imagines what it would be like to keep a clandestine lover while Kurosaki rinses and wrings out his shirt. It might be fun at first but eventually his father would find out. Uryuu can't recall the last time he successfully kept a secret from the meddlesome man. It would result in a huge fight and Ryuuken would ensure that he never saw Kurosaki again.

Uryuu is roused from maudlin musings to see the object of his daydreams rummaging in the cabinets under the counter.

"What are you looking for?"

"There has to be a hair dryer around here somewhere. As long as Renji's 'glorious mane' is, I know he has one. Aha! Found it."

He drapes the shirt over the shower curtain rod and starts blasting it with hot air. By the time the breeze circulates to Uryuu, it feels quite cool. Gooseflesh erupts across his exposed arms and he absently rubs his hands to warm the skin. Kurosaki notices and switches off the dryer.

"Are you cold? Here, take my shirt. Drying yours might take a while."

"Ah, no, that's not…"

But he is already pulling it over his head and passing it to Uryuu, who very carefully refrains from ogling him. Too much, anyway. He is only human, after all, and Kurosaki is abnormally well-built. Uryuu pulls the t-shirt on and has to admit he is definitely warmer for it. He catches himself inhaling deeper than necessary just to enjoy Kurosaki's scent lingering in the fabric, mixed with a hint of cologne.

"I would say we could borrow one of Renji's, but his standards of hygiene aren't exactly commendable."

"This is fine," he says in a small voice. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The heartfelt phrase is punctuated by a resurgence of the dryer's low-pitched whine. A couple of minutes pass and Uryuu is finding it very challenging not to furtively appreciate the way his muscles ripple impressively at every subtle movement. Then the dryer goes dead without warning. Kurosaki switches it off and on a few times but it refuses to revive.

"I think you triggered the safety mechanism," Uryuu helpfully informs. "It engages to prevent damage from overheating. It should work again in a few minutes."

"Used one of these before, have you?"

"On occasion. Plus, I might be the only person in existence lame enough to read warning labels and product instructions."

Ditching the faulty blow-dryer, he replies, "'Lame' isn't the word I'd use. More like…nerdy."

"Nerdy?"

Because he doesn't know how to take that and the bathroom is becoming oddly claustrophobic, Uryuu walks into the bedroom and sits on the end of the bed. Kurosaki follows him.

"In a good way!" Sinking beside Uryuu, he insists, "I like that about you."

Well, he would have to, considering how much of Uryuu's personality revolves around studying and fringe hobbies. He knows something about Kurosaki that most of his fan club doesn't: he is also a giant nerd. They had once shared an entire conversation about practical applications of calorimetry that had nothing to do with lab, for goodness' sake!

"I like that about you, too."

The smile is back. Kurosaki leans forward and daringly declares, "I like a lot of things about you, Ishida."

Did he just receive his first confession? Uryuu's face flames in a ferocious blush. He tries to turn away but Kurosaki touches a guiding hand to his jaw. The other hand comes up to brush Uryuu's hair back. Kurosaki gives him a nice, long pause to object before inching closer. Uryuu is the one to close that final distance between their mouths. Of course, it doesn't stop with a simple kiss. One leads to two leads to…

Several minutes later, Kurosaki withdraws to let out a breathless little laugh. Uryuu panics a bit.

"What's so funny? Am I doing it wrong?"

"No, not at all! Actually, I was just thinking…kissing you is better than I could've imagined. I really regret not asking you out sooner."

Uryuu melts, falling into Kurosaki's open arms. They hit the bed sideways and taste everything they won't yet say on each other's teasing tongues. Hours gradually pass as they take turns talking, laughing, kissing. All the things they wish they'd been doing for the past year. Kurosaki tells him about the times he loitered in places he knew Uryuu would be just for a chance to run into him. Uryuu divulges the truth of times he'd gone to Kurosaki's office hours when he had already mastered the latest coursework. They feel rather silly and content about the whole ordeal, grins growing too wide for even the quickest kisses.

An alarm proclaims that it's a quarter to twelve. Uryuu scrabbles at his pocket to silence the infernal thing. Kurosaki asks an obvious question but he's too busy dashing into the bathroom for his abandoned shirt to answer him.

"I have to go."

"What? Why?"

That is a discussion for another time. Rather than go into how stupid and constrained his life really is, Uryuu steals one last kiss and solemnly says, "Goodbye, Kurosaki."

"Ishida, wait!"

But he is already out the door and rushing down the stairs.

Urahara's sedan is thrown into park alongside the curb at exactly midnight. Uryuu switches off the ignition and leaps out of the vehicle. No sooner does he push the car door gingerly closed than the front door opens and his boss walks out. Ducking down, he peers over the trunk to spot his father hovering in the archway. Urahara calls out a jovial farewell as he rounds the hood to reach the driver's side. Ryuuken's response is in the form of the door clicking shut.

"Such a charmer, as always," he comments to Uryuu. "Did you have a nice night?"

Without hesitation, "Best night of my life."

"Happy to hear it! You'd better hurry, though: I believe he intends to check in on you before bed."

"You're probably right. Thank you, Urahara-san!" He starts to run across the lawn but halts to add, "The shirt you lent me is on the passenger seat. Sorry if it's stained."

Uryuu flees before his boss' confused expression evolves into a mortifying question. He climbs the tree in record time, stealthily shimmying in through his open window. The desk chair squeaks a pitiful protest when he wearily drops into it. A book, notepad, and pencil he staged earlier serve as a ready alibi. The frantic tide of his breath calms just as a curt tap at his door announces Ryuuken's imminent entry. Uryuu swivels to face him as though nothing at all could possibly be amiss. And indeed it isn't because his father glances over him briefly, then pivots to leave as hastily as he had arrived.

His head meets the desk in a wash of pure gratitude and relief. He actually got away with it!

* * *

He didn't get away with it.

At breakfast this morning, Ryuuken casually mentioned that he was grounded for sneaking out last night. When coolly asked what gave him away, his father cordially cited the wrinkled band t-shirt that was too large for him. The one he'd forgotten to return to its owner and subsequently fell asleep in, though he hadn't been wearing it at the time of its implication. There had also been a small leaf stuck in his hair.

So, Uryuu is officially under house arrest, locked in his bedroom since shortly after dinner, under the edict that he study until his eyes bleed. Still, he can't say it wasn't worth it. He is parked at his desk absentmindedly twirling a pen in one hand with his chin resting in the other as he daydreams about last night for the hundredth time today. If he concentrates very hard, he can almost feel the firm press of Kurosaki's hands, hear the maddening purr of his voice, smell the clean masculinity of his skin, and taste the sultry slide of his lips.

Worth it. Oh, so worth it.

A hushed tap at his window has Uryuu dropping the pen in fright. Twisting around to inspect the disturbance, he gasps at the sight of none other than the sole subject of his fantasies. He rises from the chair, wondering if one can summon another by the power of desire alone, and hurries over to open the window.

"Kurosaki? What—how did you—?"

"You left your phone in Renji's room," he announces without preamble, handing it over as proof. "Thought you might need it."

"Oh…Thanks."

"No problem."

Realizing that the man is literally balancing on a tree limb as they speak, Uryuu steps aside and invites, "Would you like to come in?"

"Pardon the intrusion."

Once Kurosaki is safely on more solid footing, he has to know, "How did you find me?"

"I asked around campus," is the logical answer, of course. But since Uryuu doesn't have friends, he suspects there was a great deal more to it than that. As though reading his thoughts, Kurosaki adopts a wry smirk. "Okay, so it took a while but I figured it out eventually."

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but don't you think it could've waited until we were both on campus tomorrow?"

"Caught me. The real reason I tracked you down is because I didn't like the way you said goodbye. It sounded too…permanent. Like you thought it might really be the last time we saw each other. And that scared me."

Cringing because his assessment isn't far off, Uryuu turns to take a few steps away. It was just supposed to be a single night's indiscretion. His only chance to have a glimpse of his brightest dreams. He had no way of knowing things would happen as they did, that they would connect so deeply. Now he has to hate himself for subjecting Kurosaki to a piece of his own personal nightmare. It takes everything in him to vocalize what needs to be said.

"I made a mistake. We shouldn't have—"

"Bullshit," he snaps, pulling Uryuu around to force eye contact. "You can't pretend you regret any part of last night."

He squeezes his eyes shut rather than endure the pain in Kurosaki's. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me you're sorry, Ishida. Tell me _what's_ _wrong_."

Uryuu cracks, spilling his guts in all their messy, pathetic glory. He tells Kurosaki all about how controlling and authoritarian his father can be. The pressures of work and school that he is constantly crushed beneath. They have ground him down so far that there is hardly anything left of him at all. Uryuu even hints at the smothering loneliness he has felt over the years. Worst of all is the guilt he suffers thinking he should be trying harder, should be stronger than this, should be able to tolerate whatever is thrown his way and more. How he often feels weak and worthless because of it.

By the time he winds down, perilously close to sobbing like a child, Kurosaki draws him into a fierce hug and just holds him. He kisses the edge of Uryuu's face and the side of his neck, whatever he can reach without putting the faintest sliver of distance between them.

"I'm here."

Such a simple sentiment is whispered into his ear. It means everything to him. Uryuu releases a breath he has been holding for such a very long time and relaxes in the blissful sphere of Kurosaki's sanctuary. It is so warm and wonderful there that he can almost believe this person was made just for him, the perfect balm to his abraded soul. When Uryuu needs to kiss him, there is no resistance. Kurosaki's fingers clench into his clothes as he makes a sound low in his throat like something sacred is breaking apart inside him.

Yet, the longer the kiss lasts, the hotter it burns until Uryuu can barely breathe. A terrible hunger builds, faster than he can control. Soon the meld of their mouths isn't enough. He has to feel Kurosaki, just Kurosaki all around him or he won't survive to see tomorrow. Although it hurts like ripping off his own arm, Uryuu drags himself away to spare a single word.

"Please?"

Kurosaki's eyes flare as a powerful shiver overtakes him. " _Yes_."

He can't possibly know exactly what he is agreeing to when Uryuu isn't even sure what he's asking, but there is not a hint of doubt in his answer. The next kiss is laced with desperation. Their clothes are shed like shackles, granting an illusion of liberation as they climb atop the bed in a stifling haze of urgency. The gentlest push and Kurosaki is on his back, both begging and promising with his stare. Uryuu kisses a line up his throat and pauses to whisper in his ear.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? My father won't be happy if he finds out."

Guiding him in for another kiss, Kurosaki interrupts it a moment later to reply, "Why do you think I came in through your window?"

That decides it.

Wherever they touch, Uryuu's skin ignites. His fingertips trail boldly south, grazing Kurosaki's erection and winning a soft groan of encouragement. His tongue engages Uryuu's as hands draw him closer. The heat building between them is sweltering but not oppressive. He eagerly creates more of it with the aid of sliding friction and Kurosaki's tenuous restraint crumbles. Abruptly rolling them over, he wedges between Uryuu's thighs and thrusts firmly against him.

"Ichigo!" he breaks the kiss to call out.

The given name came unbidden but he doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it when Kurosaki is already moaning his in return. His hips find a rhythm that Uryuu's strive to match. He wraps arms around Kurosaki's neck and legs around his waist, absolutely unwilling to allow the slightest sliver of space between them. The meld of their mouths becomes intermittent by necessity, quick breaths adding soft meter to the chorus of their stifled groans.

As pleasure rises, Uryuu's concern for being caught falls. In this moment, he doesn't dare spare a single thought for his stern father. All he can think about, all he can sense is Kurosaki filling his mind with yearning and bliss in equal measure. His body starts to tense in preparation for a pressing plunge. Uryuu isn't the only one. He gasps to feel a hot splash of fluid against his belly as Kurosaki does his very best not to shout alongside his climax, fists clenching into the sheets at either side of Uryuu's shoulders.

Although Kurosaki is already faintly trembling from potent aftereffects of the rush, he reaches between them to get Uryuu there, too. It doesn't take much. He gazes into the sated gleam of Kurosaki's dark eyes and shudders hard as the tight grip wrings a fierce orgasm from him. The unprecedented magnitude startles him silent where a wavering cry might have echoed through the whole house. Just when Uryuu regains his breath, Kurosaki's kiss threatens to steal it away again. He withdraws to regard Uryuu with an awed cast to his features.

"Why the hell didn't I ask you out sooner?" Kurosaki bemoans with such perfect melodrama that Uryuu smiles.

"Because I'm so busy," he dolefully reminds.

"Oh, right."

Loosening his limbs so Kurosaki can move to lie beside him, Uryuu turns to face the man and shyly bites his lip. His voice is lowered not for the sake of caution but uncertainty.

"If…if you're serious about this, I could try to adjust my schedule. Maybe take fewer hours at work and drop one of my classes next semester?"

"I'm serious, Uryuu," he hastily asserts. "So, you better block off lots of time to spend with me. Like, whole days if possible, because I'm crazy about you." Wincing at the strong words as soon as they are spoken, Kurosaki mutters, "Damn. I told myself I wasn't going to mention that until the third date."

"Don't worry, it's mutual."

The slow spread of Kurosaki's delighted grin is more than enough reward for his courageous candor.

* * *

He wakes to the familiar squeak of his door's unoiled hinges.

Uryuu opens his eyes to see his father looming in the gaping doorway. Ryuuken's face is alight with burgeoning rage. Probably because Kurosaki is sleeping soundly beside him. They are both still naked beneath the blanket, though they had at least taken a scrap of time to clean up before passing out in each other's arms last night. Sitting upright, Uryuu makes the first move in their usual game of verbal Chess.

"This is Kurosaki Ichigo, my new boyfriend."

And Ryuuken just glowers, not a speck of surprise flitting across his features because while his son never told him outright, it should have been obvious to someone as analytical as Uryuu's father. Not to mention the only poster he had ever bothered pinning to his bedroom wall as a teenager was an action shot of Mifune Toshiro from the classic film _Yojimbo_. He'd had a thing for samurai back then. Maybe he still does.

Kurosaki stirs at the sound of his name and takes note of his bed partner's tension. He yawns and asks, "What's wrong, Uryuu?"

The sound of his son's name used so casually deepens Ryuuken's scowl. In contrast, Uryuu coldly smiles as he braces for the rant.

"How _dare_ you bring someone into this house without my permission?" As the lecture is launched, Kurosaki stiffens in shock and scrambles upright beside Uryuu to notice the third person in the room. "I did not raise you to be so reckless and rude! I won't tolerate this beha—"

"What's the big deal, so he let me stay the night? I'm not gonna steal anything!"

Taking two steps further inside, Ryuuken addresses the 'intruder' just as harshly as his son. "Your mere presence is intolerable! Do you think I haven't figured out what you two have done under my roof? I refuse to forgive such flagrant dishonor!"

"You want to talk about honor?" scathingly counters Kurosaki, "How about the way you treat your own flesh-and-blood? Do you think pushing Uryuu until he cracks under the pressure of outrageous expectations is 'honorable'? He is already trying so hard! Can't you see he's been suffering? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"How I treat my son is none of your business!"

"Yeah? From here on out I'm making it my business. He's a grown man and I'm not letting you order him around anymore!"

" _Watch_ _yourself_ ," Ryuuken hisses.

"What are you gonna do about it? Kick him out? Then he can stay with me."

"I appreciate your intentions," Uryuu weakly dissents, "But something like that is—"

Turning to lock eyes, Kurosaki sincerely proclaims, "I meant what I said last night: I'm completely head-over-heels. If you ever need a place to stay, don't even hesitate. My apartment is big enough for two. Pack a bag and I'll take care of the rest."

Both Ishida men fall silent at that. Emboldened by the back-up plan, Uryuu aims a rebellious stare at his father. Check.

"You…" Gradually, the fury dulls to disdain. Ryuuken glances between the two of them and snaps, "Do as you will, but not in this house."

The door slams shut behind him and Uryuu can only stare at the space his father just vacated. Did he win? He looks to Kurosaki, smiling in shared victory, and shakes his head in disbelief. Unless he is dreaming, Ryuuken effectively sanctioned their relationship with almost no emotional fallout. Uryuu has no clue how to express the depth of gratitude he harbors for basically fixing his entire life over the course of twenty-four hours.

"Ichigo…that was _amazing_. I've never seen him so flustered. How can I thank you?"

His grin isn't nearly as lecherous as Uryuu expects. "Well, I liked it when you called me 'boyfriend' earlier. I wouldn't hate hearing it again."

He flushes lightly even as he complies with Kurosaki's modest request, and earns a kiss for his trouble.

THE END


	4. He of the Orange Hair

**He of the Orange Hair**

* * *

Once upon a time there lived a young man in a very tall tower. The tower had always been his home. For as long as he could recall Ichigo had been at the top of it, gazing out at the glorious countryside from on high. Some days he wanted desperately to descend and explore the woods all around. Even the distant castle to the south seemed a marvelous place to visit. Occasionally he would see people pass below—tiny and hurried like scurrying mice—but none ever stopped to pay him any mind. Ichigo was fine with it. He had his books to keep him company when Nel wasn't around. They filled row upon row of shelves lining the width of his large room. Having read each one at least once, he was always excited when Nel brought him a new selection to enjoy.

Who was Nel? Well, she wasn't Ichigo's mother. In fact, he was relatively certain they weren't related at all. But she took care of him and that was all that mattered. Dealing with her could be challenging at times, but that was mostly because she loved him so much and didn't hesitate to show it. Really, he was lucky to have someone like Nel looking out for him in such a big, bad world. The terrible and wondrous stories he had heard told him all he needed to know. So, when Nel told him to stay in the tower for his own good, Ichigo listened. Sure, he got lonely on occasion but he was safe and comfortable and healthy. Many _out there_ could not boast the same. Besides, he had a cat, a squirrel, and a few birds who regularly stopped by to spend time with him. What more could he want?

At least, that's what Ichigo used to think. Before he met the prince.

It was a cool, lazy autumn afternoon like any other. Ichigo was sitting by the window singing and playing a song Nel had taught him years ago mashed with a lute melody he thought up on his own—which was another of his various hobbies—when he spotted a stranger galloping in the direction of his tower from the south. Based on his fine clothes and sturdy steed, Ichigo deduced he was a member of the royal court at the very least. He bore the colors of the kingdom and rode with a practiced ease that spoke of thorough education as well as innate skill. Uncaring of being overheard, Ichigo did not stop the song. The stranger heard, glancing up and slowing the stallion as their eyes met across the height of several stories.

"Hail, good sir," called the traveler, "Are you in need of rescue?"

"No, I live here," Ichigo's fingers paused on the lute's strings as he shouted down. "Thanks anyway."

"You…live in this place? How do you come and go from up there? I see no doors or ladder to grant passage."

"Oh, I never leave. Nel says, 'the outside world is a perilous and evil place, not to be traversed by sweet and innocent young men'."

Considering that for a moment, the stranger eventually asked, "What is your name? I am Prince Uryuu of the Southern Kingdom."

"I am Ichigo, of the…really tall tower by the lake."

"…Well met, Ichigo."

That seemed an odd thing to say, but admittedly he was not as familiar with the local customs so he politely parroted the phrase back. Prince Uryuu looked around for a bit, walking the circumference of the tower in keen curiosity. Ichigo patiently waited for him to return to the front so he could address him once more.

"You mentioned rescue. Do you make a habit of wandering the kingdom in search of wayward victims? Is that what princes do?"

From what details Ichigo could make out at this distance, it appeared the prince was frowning. He said, "Of course not. What manner of job description is that?"

"The helpful kind, I would say."

"And how would I make my living? You do not look like you would have much to offer as a reward."

"How would you know from way down there?" countered Ichigo. "I happen to have a lot of cool stuff up here!"

"Is that so?"

"Hey, don't get any ideas. I'm not about to let some shifty prince into my bedroom. I have standards, you know."

"So do I," Uryuu superciliously sniffed. "Who said I wanted to step foot into that rickety bird's nest you call a bedroom?"

"Your loss. My place is super amazing and totally comfortable. Not that you will ever find out."

"That's a relief."

"Good."

"Fine." They stood around staring at each other for a while. Then the prince said, "I should get going."

"Yeah, you should go find someone who actually needs rescuing and do your job."

"That isn't my—Never mind. I bid you _adieu_ , 'Ichigo of the really tall tower by the lake'."

" _Sayonara_ , 'Prince Uryuu of the Southern Kingdom'." The prince hesitated in uncertainty. Ichigo proudly informed, "That's from an eastern language called Japanese, by the way. You've probably never heard of it. I'm sure I read way more books than you do."

Scoffing in annoyance, Uryuu did not bother to reply. He mounted his steed and urged the beautiful beast into a wild gallop to get him away from Ichigo as quickly as possible. As far as first encounters go, he could do better but he could also do worse. One thing was for sure: Prince Uryuu would never dare clomp hoof near Ichigo's tower again.

* * *

Four days later, Ichigo was lounging on his bed scratching behind the ears of the visiting cat when he heard a vaguely familiar voice call out to him from the base of the tower. Poking his head out the window, he gaped to recognize none other than the arrogant prince returned. Without waiting for Ichigo's acknowledgment, he launched right into a prepared speech.

"Don't think I'm here because I want to be. I only came back because I happened to ask around out of mild curiosity and was told a wicked witch has been holding someone captive here for the past eighteen years. I am here to rescue you…for sure this time."

From one of his saddlebags, the prince produced a longbow, a quarrel of arrows, and a length of rope. Uryuu stepped up to the tower and began tying one end of the rope to one of the arrows. Ichigo snorted disdainfully, seeing what he planned to attempt.

"Good luck with that." Then he realized something. "Hey, wait. Did you say 'wicked witch'? Nel isn't wicked! Or a witch, that I know of…"

"Of course _you_ wouldn't see her that way. All you have to go on is her word. I bet she never confessed to stealing you as a newborn from the king and queen of the Northern Kingdom, did she?"

"King and queen? You mean I'm a prince?"

"So it would seem, albeit a poor example of one. Now, stand back. I don't want to hit you by accident."

"Are you that bad of a marksman? Maybe you should get someone else to come 'rescue' me instead," taunted Ichigo, smirking when the prince growled in irritation. "I just don't know if you're the right man for the job. Anyway, I never said I wanted to leave. Shouldn't you take my feelings into consideration before you steal me away from the only home I've ever known?"

Surprisingly, that had the prince halting mid-draw. He lowered the bow and looked up at Ichigo in contemplation.

"Are you truly happy here? Don't you ever wonder what the world could be beyond these walls?"

"Sure I do, but that's what my books are for. Books are safe. The world is not."

"But books cannot replace genuine experiences. To know the scent of an exotic flower or the call of a rare bird, to touch the swaying branches of a willow tree or see the sun rise between two mountain peaks, to taste luscious fruit or perceive a new friend's mind…this is what makes life magnificent."

"Wow. If I didn't know better, I might guess you were a poet, Uryuu."

"I'm serious, Ichigo. How much of your decision to stay is composed of Sorceress Neliel's insistence? There is a wealth of splendor just beyond your window. All you have to do is step outside and see it for yourself. Well, not 'step', but you know what I meant."

Ichigo considered it. He really did. In the end, though, he didn't see the benefit in putting himself at risk just to experience the world the way Prince Uryuu suggested. What was wrong with books and viewing from afar? Ichigo didn't want to end up like one of the poor saps in his novels who tried their luck and lost everything for the sake of greed. No, he was not greedy and he knew better. Besides, Nel was always good to him and she wouldn't lie. As long as there was a valid reason for him to stay right where he was, Ichigo would not venture into the unknown.

"No, thanks."

The arrow glanced off the stone wall to his right with a metallic _clang_. Leaning over the ledge, Ichigo could tell the prince was determined to rescue him whether he wanted it or not. He shot that rope-tethered arrow several more times before deciding it could not imbed in the dense wall, much less serve as anchor while he climbed up. Throwing the bow, arrow, and rope to the ground with a snarl, Uryuu pointed accusatorily up at him.

"There must be some way for you to receive supplies and sundries, some way for a visitor to enter your domain! How does your witch get inside?"

"It's a secret," Ichigo retorted.

"Even if you won't tell me, I will find out. I swear it!"

"I don't know, it seems like you have a pretty large margin of failure so far. For some reason, I'm not too worried."

"Mark my words, Ichigo, I shall return!"

With that, the prince mounted his horse and rode away from the tower once more.

* * *

A few days later Nel came to visit and little did they know Prince Uryuu was lurking in the bushes nearby. As soon as she left, imparting giddy gossip as well as a new cache of books and food, the nosy royal burst from the foliage and begged Ichigo to let down his majestic mane of golden hair, allowing the prince to enter the tower. Well, he didn't put it in those words _per se_.

"Toss down that atrocious orange mop you call hair so I can climb up and spirit you away from this decrepit hovel you call a home."

With his chin propped on a palm beside the ledge, Ichigo snarked, "You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, don't you? Why should I let you up?"

Uryuu had a persuasive response ready, "Why _not_ let me up?"

It was true the prince appeared to be on the slender side so it wasn't like he could force Ichigo to leave. And honestly he was a tiny bit curious about what Uryuu looked like up close. Plus, he could show off his awesome abode and maybe even convince the prince that he was fine with being cooped up here for the rest of his life. Really, he was.

"Okay, I'll do it."

"You will?"

"If it'll shut you up, yeah. Hold on, it takes a while to gather all this hair up."

"All right."

Ichigo went through the usual spiel of gathering and tossing his gargantuan braid out the window and wrapping it around the metal hook a couple times so it wasn't torn from his scalp. Fortunately, the slender prince was a little lighter than the buxom Nel and he was able to anchor his makeshift rope without trouble. Uryuu, on the other hand, was struggling. About two-thirds of the way up the massive structure he began to slow. Ichigo could hear his labored breathing.

"Doing okay there, esteemed prince? Need some help?"

"I'm…fine," he huffed.

"If you think climbing it is hard, you should try braiding this much hair. My hands cramped for _days_ the first time I did it."

"How…awful for you."

Getting into it, Ichigo continued, "Almost there, keep going!"

"Not…helping," the prince rasped, slipping a few inches.

"You can do it, Princey-Poo, I believe in you!"

"Shut up!"

"Aw, don't be like that. The proper motivation makes any task easier. Would it motivate you to hear how grateful I'll be when you 'rescue' me?"

"No."

"Just think about all the books I can lend you."

"Fantastic."

"I have a cat. Do you like cats?" No response. Uryuu was almost within reach. "What about sparrows? There's a squirrel around here somewhere."

"Thanks, but…we have plenty of animals at the castle."

"Oh, of course Mister Fancy-Pants would have lots of extraordinary pets. What was I thinking? In that case, I guess all I have left to offer is a kiss, if you're into that sort of thing."

" _What_?" The stunned outburst nearly cost him everything. Ichigo reached out at the last second and grabbed Uryuu's fine-boned wrist before he could plummet to an untimely demise. He pulled the prince inside and they collapsed to the floor. As soon as he was able he turned to Ichigo, who was casually pulling his braid back inside right from where he was lying, and asked, "What did you say?"

"Uh, I was just saying that I could give you a kiss for your trouble if you wanted. I read that's a thing that people do to show gratitude sometimes."

"I see." They sat up but didn't rise from the floor just yet. Uryuu said, "It's a bit different in my kingdom. Usually a kiss is reserved for someone you like very much."

"We probably shouldn't do it, then."

"Probably."

Ichigo stared at the prince's angular features and wondered if Uryuu was considered handsome in the castle because he definitely liked what he saw. Ichigo had seen pages upon pages of illustrations, both men and women, and Uryuu seemed a nice mix of the two. He was almost pretty, but in a masculine sense. The way he was flushed and heaving with exertion looked quite fetching on him, too. As Ichigo's gaze lowered to the prince's mouth, he thought it might not be so terrible to feel those lips against his.

"On the other hand," posited Ichigo, "There isn't much harm in it, is there?"

"Harm?" Uryuu repeated. "No, I shouldn't think so."

"I guess I wouldn't object if you wanted to do it."

"Well…I did climb all the way up here. It's only fair."

"You're right, it is fair."

With that established, Ichigo really had no choice, did he? Uryuu froze when Ichigo licked his lips and leaned forward. He wanted to know how a fellow prince tasted. Was that so unusual? Their mouths touched so gently he almost didn't feel it at first. Then a barrage of sensations rushed through Ichigo as he decided this kissing thing was highly underrated. He liked it so much that he found himself pushing closer and closer until they were sprawled on the floor again. The softness of Uryuu's cool hair between his fingers provided an interesting contrast with the heat of his skin.

Thinking of that warm, smooth flesh made Ichigo want to explore more of it. He caressed the back of Uryuu's neck and dragged his lips lower. Latching onto a soft spot between shoulder and throat, Ichigo jolted to hear a strained noise slip from the prince. Yet, the way Uryuu grasped his shoulders to keep him in place promised it was a positive sign. Keeping his mouth right where it was, Ichigo sent his hands wandering below.

Not to be left idle, Uryuu yanked the shirt from the cinch of Ichigo's trousers to send his fingertips skating across the bare expanse of back and sides. It felt so good he made a strained sound of his own. Instincts took over, guiding him in lieu of experience. He returned to kissing Uryuu's open mouth and found new joy in the eager greeting of slow tongues. Meanwhile, Ichigo's hands discovered something that made the prince gasp and kiss him that much harder.

Nothing he had read even hinted at this. Not one of his diverse hobbies could compare. Kissing Uryuu was bliss, plain and simple, and Ichigo never wanted to stop. Several stellar moments later, it did. Shortly after they figured out that rubbing their hips together was best of all, something like a miniature explosion shook through them both. There was nothing they could have done to defuse it, even if they wanted to. Uryuu was the first to broach the stunned silence afterward.

"That was…"

"Did we just…?"

"I…Yes, I think we did."

"Does that mean I like you more than I thought I did?" Ichigo wanted to know.

"In a way, I suppose."

"Would you want to do that again sometime?"

Pausing, Uryuu diplomatically replied, "Well, I wouldn't hate it."

"I absolutely want to do it again. You know, later."

"Later sounds fine."

They pushed themselves to a wavering stand and watched each other with a notable amount of awkwardness. Did this mean they were lovers? Should they get married? Ichigo wasn't clear on the process but it seemed like what they had just done wouldn't be forgotten anytime soon. Truthfully, he was already eager for 'later' to become 'now'. He shook his head to clear it and pointed toward a carved archway in the far wall.

"Washroom is that way."

"Thank you."

While the prince was cleaning up, Ichigo followed suit. His room was rarely messy but he busied himself tidying it as much as possible. Nel had taught him first impressions were very important but it was every encounter after that truly defined a friendship. For some reason he wanted to make good impressions on Uryuu so they could have a strong friendship.

When he reemerged, Ichigo widely gestured to the grandiose room in a wordless invitation for Uryuu to explore as he took a turn in the wash chamber. In the center of the ceiling was a frosted glass oculus that let sunlight stream in while keeping rain and snow out. It cast the circular room in varying shades of bronze and shadow, lending warmth to the grey stone walls. In the middle of his bedroom sat a large bed bearing an elegant canopy draped in gauzy cream-colored fabrics. Between stacks of sturdy bookshelves were spacious trunks filled with miscellaneous objects ranging from clothes and musical instruments to dice games and frivolous trinkets. Nel was a very generous caretaker.

The sole window, which could be barred shut during storms, comprised a large section of the southwest wall. There were only two doors, one leading to the wash chamber and the other to a stairwell to the lower levels. Ichigo had explored all the levels but he mainly only visited the next one down, which was the kitchen and stock room. The other floors were primarily empty save for piles and piles of firewood for cooking and heating. Water was collected and stored from rain in giant reservoirs beneath the tower that flowed through copper pipes all the way up to his washroom. Ichigo had no idea how it worked but he suspected Nel might've known a bit of magic after all.

Prince Uryuu was perusing a row of novels when Ichigo finished cleaning up.

"Told you I have a lot of interesting stuff."

"This is indeed an impressive private collection, but it is still nothing compared with the castle library." Taking a thoughtful pause, Uryuu softened the slight criticism with an invitation, "You are more than welcome to return with me and see it for yourself. Be my personal guest, Ichigo. Stay with us as long as you like."

Ichigo smiled. "Thanks for the generous offer, but I'm good right where I am."

"Of course," he returned, a pinch of frustration returning to his features. "Far be it for me to rip you from your cozy little _lair_ , completely reliant on a notoriously traitorous enchantress for your continued survival."

"Hey, don't talk about Nel like that! You don't know the first thing about her."

"True. All I know are the things I have heard throughout the land. But all those people must be mistaken."

Fixing the prince with a glare, Ichigo wasn't surprised to see him unfazed by it. As easy as it was to bicker with Uryuu, what he truly wanted was to _talk_ , to share knowledge and trade stories. Here was the first person besides Nel that he had ever interacted with and there were so many questions he couldn't wait to ask. For the sake of getting to the fun part, Ichigo sidestepped the tricky topic of his pseudo-captivity for the time being.

"If you really want to convince me to leave the tower, you'll need to do much better than character assassination. Tell me about your kingdom. Make me see it the way you do. Give me so many reasons to go out and live it for myself that I can't bear to spend another moment in this room."

Eyebrows lifting at the fanciful challenge, Uryuu couldn't stop an intrigued smirk from twisting 'round his lips. The same lips that Ichigo kept catching himself gazing longingly upon with anticipation for the promised 'later'. He gestured to his bed where they sat as Uryuu ordered his thoughts. The prince detailed the finer points of his existence with an eloquence and pride that decorated the words beyond mere communication. If Ichigo were to lie back and shut his eyes, he felt the phrases would transform behind his lids to achieve a life of their own. The awe-inspiring way Uryuu described the music of a masterfully coordinated orchestra or the revelry of an ostentatious gala nearly robbed him of breath. It was similar to reading but with the added benefit of being able to ask questions and make comments.

Hours passed as they whiled away the afternoon on such ponderances. The sun steadily scooted across the sky until it burned the same hue as Ichigo's hair. Darker, until it ran bloody and dim at the edges. Darker yet, until it sighed violet and gave way to the black backdrop of turquoise galaxies in the unfathomable distance. The spark of flint lit a candle's wick and Uryuu's eyes alike. Suddenly he jolted upright from a relaxed sprawl across the wide mattress and glanced at evening's recent reign outside the ajar window.

"Is it already this late? I have to get back to the castle!" he exclaimed.

It was the last thing Ichigo wanted to hear. Before Uryuu could scramble from the bed, he grasped the young man's wrist once more.

"Wait. Must you leave so soon? But I am not yet convinced! Surely you can stay a little longer, if you are already late?"

The prince hesitated in clear confliction. His expression said he did not want to go, either, but his mouth betrayed him.

"I can't stay. The king and queen will—"

"What good are loving parents if they cannot forgive? If they are as kind as you say, they must condone your dedication to rescuing a poor, kidnapped soul in a tower."

Indulging a laugh at Ichigo's melodrama, he inched nearer rather than further. Mirroring Uryuu's approach had them halting just shy of noses touching. A delicate color adorned the tops of his cheeks as azure eyes slid half-shut. Ichigo began to feel warm all over. The hand clasped around Uryuu's seemed to grow a thousand times more sensitive. The urge to touch more of him loomed paramount.

"And how shall I win permission to rescue you from this terrible tower?"

"I'm not sure," murmured Ichigo into the shrinking space between them, "It might take…a bit of effort."

"Creativity?"

"Yes, absolutely."

Uryuu hummed in feigned contemplation. "Strength and endurance?"

"Nothing you can't handle."

That summoned a fleeting grin that the prince swiftly subverted. In his most serious tone, he said, "Then I have no choice, have I? I must be brave and ensure your liberty however I may. Even if that involves more kissing."

" _Much_ more," Ichigo insisted.

"If that is how it must be, then so be it."

The last word was a mere whisper trapped between two pair of pressed lips.

* * *

Prince Uryuu had failed to convince Ichigo to leave the tower that night, as well as the many other nights that followed, but he never gave up. Every time he came back, Uryuu would have a fresh argument prepared. Some new tidbit intended to urge Ichigo to reconsider. Once that ritual was completed, they would talk for hours until the prince had to return to the castle or risk retribution. They spent the better part of the season this way and by the time an arid chill took to the air, Ichigo felt he knew the young man very well indeed.

It didn't hurt that they never failed to find their way into bed at some point during each visit. Yet, the more time he spent with Uryuu, the more time he _wanted_ to spend with him. It was a craving never fully satisfied, a yearning that only continued to grow. Ichigo was stunned to realize one day that he had begun to anticipate the prince's visits much more than Nel's. Although he felt a little guilty for it, there was no changing the fact whether he liked it or not.

This fact was emphasized one unfortunate week when Uryuu did not visit him at all. At first, Ichigo was sure he was simply busy with his princely duties but when the days began to accumulate, his anxiety grew in accord. He started to wonder if something had happened or if Uryuu had changed his mind about indulging their trysts. What if he never returned?

Ichigo was failing to distract himself from such thoughts with a favorite novel early one evening when he heard the telltale call to let down his hair in a familiar masculine voice. The book went flying as he ran to the window and hurled himself half out of it. Uryuu stood waiting below and Ichigo's heart gave a dangerous judder before settling into relief-tinged happiness. Down fell his spiraling braid and up climbed the limber prince while Ichigo waited quite impatiently. It was a very good thing that Uryuu had gotten much faster at scaling the side of the tower since the first attempt because he felt as though every extra second it took was utterly unbearable. It also didn't hurt that all that practice had done marvelous things to the muscles of his arms and chest.

As soon as he was within range, Ichigo hauled him inside and pulled him close. Uryuu hummed mild surprise into the enthusiastic kiss but he did not complain. At least, not until he was unceremoniously flung atop the bed with Ichigo moving to brace astride him.

"What's gotten into you?" Uryuu asked as his shirt was thrown open.

"Too long," grunted Ichigo. He dipped down to lap at bared flesh, adding as he went, "How dare you stay away so long?"

Uryuu moaned softly, fingers curling at the nape of his neck as he paused in a particular place. His breathing was already compromised when he replied a moment later.

"I had no choice! There were foreign dignitaries visiting and the king had me playing tour guide all week."

Crawling back up to look at him, Ichigo prompted, "So, it wasn't your decision? I thought maybe you were tired of seeing me or—"

"Of course not!" Blue eyes were wide with sincerity and shock. "Each day, I wanted nothing more than to sneak into the stables and ride straight here. Ryuuken would have had me drawn and quartered if I'd tried."

The affirmation eased remaining tension and Ichigo drew him into a different kind of kiss than before. Fraught with tenderness and longing in lieu of wild passion, it alleviated much of the strain on his heart. He grasped Uryuu's hand and interlaced their fingers possessively. If only he could cast a spell of his own and somehow bind them together for eternity.

"You can't do that to me again, Uryuu," he stated once he could bear to separate their mouths. "I missed you too much."

Remembered misery of their separation was mirrored in the prince's gaze. He whispered, "Me, too. I'm sorry."

"Actually, I've been thinking about this a lot. I'm not okay with only seeing you for a handful of hours every other day anymore, and I know you're already visiting as often as you can. So, if…if I went with you to the castle, could we spend more time together?"

Uryuu brightened and said, "Yes, Ichigo. _Much_ more time. As much as you'd like, outside of my duties at court."

"Then…I will go with you."

This time it was Uryuu who wrangled him in for an energetic embrace. Ichigo had never seen him so pleased and he smiled to think he was the cause of it. Even after a rigorous bout of activity, which thoroughly tested their strength and endurance, the lazy grin refused to diminish. He snuggled up to Uryuu and sweetly kissed along the side of his face.

"Mmm," he contentedly hummed and turned toward Ichigo. "If I had known a week's absence could sway you, I would have tried it sooner."

He got a pinch to his side for the tease and was firmly reminded, "Never again, Uryuu."

"Does that mean I'll be tagging along when you see your parents?"

Ichigo hadn't considered that but he instantly knew he very much did want Uryuu to accompany him and boldly declared such.

"Yeah, you're going with me for the reunion. But first I'm curious about this castle you've been telling me all about."

"I will enjoy showing it to you. Starting with my personal chambers."

Although his tone hinted at a reviving mood, he disentangled their naked limbs and made to leave the bed so he could return to the home they had just referenced. Ichigo latched onto him with all the power he retained.

"Stay tonight. Just this once? Then you can meet Nel tomorrow afternoon and I'll explain everything to her."

"Are you crazy? She'll zap me to ash!"

"I've told you she's not like that," he insisted. Uryuu shook his head like he wanted to argue but he didn't get the chance. "Whether she has magical abilities or not, Nel is sweeter than honey; she would never hurt anyone. Besides, I can't just disappear without saying goodbye! Whatever else she's done, Nel has taken care of me my whole life. I owe her this much."

Presented with such a reasonable argument, Uryuu could not bring himself to dissent. He eased back into Ichigo's arms and lightly touched their lips together.

"All right, I will meet your sorceress."

"And help me pack in the morning."

A smile spread as he generously agreed, "And help you pack in the morning."

* * *

There was a small collection of items packed in a bag beside the window, some clothes and a few other possessions Ichigo would rather not part with. Mostly his favorite books, although Uryuu had limited him to five for his steed's sake. After breakfast, they had spent the morning cheerfully making plans. There were so many things Ichigo wanted to do and places he hoped to see. He couldn't wait to share it all with Uryuu.

First he had to break Nel's heart.

Ichigo heard her call around the time the sun reached its late autumnal zenith. Tossing down his braid, he hurriedly imparted last-minute advice to Uryuu as she climbed up to join them.

"Just let me do most of the talking, okay? I'll break it to her gently."

"Fair enough."

It was quietly murmured alongside a self-conscious adjustment of his clothing. Uryuu stood across the room and to the side, out of immediate range of the window. Apparently, he was still very apprehensive about meeting the 'wicked witch'. Ichigo didn't know what other people were saying about her to warrant such fear but one meeting with Nel would rectify the misunderstanding. Ichigo showed him a reassuring smile before turning to greet the woman cresting his wide windowsill.

"Ichigo!" she cried and attacked him with a fierce hug, per usual. "Good afternoon!"

Returning the hug and customary greeting, Ichigo withdrew to say, "Nel, I want you to meet someone. This is my friend, Prince Uryuu."

"What are you talking about, silly? Did you adopt another wild creature as a pet? I know how much you love them but animals aren't really 'friends'. Only people can…be…" Her eyes had found the friend in question and she forgot to finish the sentence as astonishment transformed her features. "What are you doing here!? How did you—"

"I let him up, obviously. Relax, he's harmless." Thinking of Uryuu's lethal skill in archery, Ichigo amended, "Well, to us at least. I know I should have told you we've been seeing each other but I didn't want you to feel bad. Just because I have someone else I care about now doesn't mean I've stopped caring about you, too."

He paused to let Nel absorb everything. She was still gaping at Uryuu like she didn't know what to make of him. Ichigo wasn't even sure she heard what he'd said.

"That man cannot be here. Tell him to leave, Ichigo!"

"What? Nel, I said it's all right. Uryuu is a good person, you'll see."

Shaking her head, Nel marched over to him and grabbed the front of his shirt. Uryuu started but didn't resist as he was dragged toward the window.

"Let down your hair," she instructed Ichigo, "Make him go!"

He strode over to push her grip from Uryuu and stand slightly between them. "No. Nel, calm down and listen to me. I'm trying to tell you he's—"

" _I don't care_!" she screamed. Ichigo could only stare at her in shock; he had never seen her act this way. "I don't care who he is or what he's like, he doesn't belong here! Get him out!"

"Ichigo, maybe I should—"

"I said Uryuu is not going anywhere," he resolutely proclaimed, "Not unless I leave with him."

That stunned Nel into silence. Her gaze bounced between the pair of them in terrified bewilderment. It was as if she was putting the pieces together and the reality of what Ichigo was trying to convey had finally dawned on her. The expression on her face indicated she was so far from fine with it.

"Why would you say something like that? What horrendous lies has this man been feeding you, that leaving the tower is even an option!?"

"It isn't an 'option', it's my _decision_. I am going to live in the castle with Uryuu for a while, then pay a visit to the parents you took me from."

Nel cringed as though stabbed. His betrayal shook through the woman he had always regarded as a mother-figure and forced a stark change to her demeanor. Warm hazel eyes attained a cold light, narrowing in sudden fury. A wispy green miasma began to waft and curl from her silhouette like noxious smoke. Uryuu sucked in a sharp breath behind him and Ichigo raised an arm across him protectively. They both took a couple steps back from the glowing enchantress. Her low voice was chillingly emotionless as she addressed the 'intruder'.

"Did you really think I would let you take him away from me?"

"He isn't taking me anywhere! I _chose_ to go with him, to see what lies outside this tower. You have been so kind to me all these years but now I am ready to explore the world with someone who means so much to me. Can't you understand that?"

The quick meter of her breathing tinted his mind with black foreboding. The jade waves of power were only getting thicker. Nel's hands clenched into fists at her sides. Then Uryuu touched his arm and spoke the first syllable of Ichigo's name. She snapped. All that pent-up energy exploded outward with a primal shriek and they went flying in opposite directions.

Ichigo hit the bookshelf near his bed hard enough to white out his vision for a handful of seconds. His head ached and the room swam but he rose on wobbly legs and searched the vicinity for Uryuu. He wasn't there. Panic assailed him as he realized Nel was peering out the gaping window toward something at the base of the tower. Ichigo dashed forth to lean over the ledge even as he told himself it couldn't be true.

Uryuu was sprawled in a limp heap directly below. He wasn't moving.

The series of actions that followed were carried out in a detached haze. Ichigo refused to accept the possibility that his lover was dead. He yanked a dagger from its sheath and sheared the braid from the base of his neck in one smooth motion. Nel gasped to see him indifferently discard that which had taken the better part of his life to cultivate. Ichigo tied off the end to the hook embedded in the wall and descended from the tower without a backward glance.

His contrived composure unraveled the instant his feet hit the ground. There was a bright trail of blood oozing from the corner of Uryuu's pale mouth and one of his arms was bent at an unnatural angle. Ichigo knelt close beside but hesitated to touch him for fear of worsening his wounds. Trembling fingers fluttered here and there about his broken body, itching to help without knowing how. Pressure squeezed his heart as he noted that Uryuu didn't seem to be breathing.

Nel dropped to the grass from his abandoned braid and cautiously approached to gawk at the grisly spectacle she had caused. A thunderbolt of molten wrath struck him at the very sight of her there. Dozens of verdant blades snapped ominously as his clawing hands gouged deep furrows into the soil.

" _You_ did this!" he bellowed so loud she twitched in fright. "Heal him, now! You can do it, right? You're the _wicked witch_ , aren't you?"

Sorrow pursed her brow and tears glossed her eyes. "I…I didn't mean to—"

"I don't want to hear it! Shut up and heal Uryuu or I will never forgive you!"

Clear streaks of anguish slicked her cheeks but she nodded compliance. Nel raised shining palms and chanted a complicated invocation over Uryuu's prone figure. Ichigo gingerly straightened out his arm, feeling the bones mending beneath the skin, and wiped away the sticky trickle branching from the edge of his lower lip. The spell took several minutes and by the time Nel finished she was unable to remain standing. She collapsed onto a patch of withered clover and weakly huffed from magical exertion.

Ichigo caressed the side of his prince's face like he had done so many times before. Blue eyes slowly blinked open to focus on brown. Uryuu grunted in confusion when he was abruptly lifted into a desperate hold. He started to speak but Ichigo's emotion-laden kiss got in the way.

"I'm okay," assured Uryuu once unobstructed, "I think."

"You better be."

"Oh, your hair…Was that because of me?"

"I didn't need it anymore."

The sound of pitiable sobbing drew their attention to Nel. She had arms wrapped about herself and knees drawn close, appearing almost as distraught as Ichigo had just felt. Uryuu sat up properly to regard the woman who had nearly killed him. And who had saved his life.

"I'm s-sorry, Ichigo," she hiccupped around uneven sips of air. "I didn't m-mean to. I'm so sorry."

He frowned, brow scrunching and teeth gritting of their own accord. Hating her should have been easy. Nel's selfish tantrum had threatened to take the most important person out of his life solely so she could continue to monopolize Ichigo. Yet, watching her weep so ruefully stirred sympathy inside him. He knew it was an accident but he was still too shaken to exonerate the crime regardless of her motive. Not with Uryuu sitting freshly snatched from the pearly gates and looking so fragile to match.

"Can you stand?" Ichigo helped him up and announced, "If you can ride, we should be on our way. Someone at the castle needs to check for any lasting damage."

Offering a noncommittal noise, Uryuu led the way toward his tethered horse on the other side of the tower. They worked together to place the saddle and prepare for departure. Before either of them could mount, however, he turned to face Ichigo and glanced pointedly toward the source of persistent ululations from a woman in deepest despair.

"If you leave her like that you will never forgive yourself."

Ichigo's eyes flared to hear the compassionate remark from the last person expected to deliver it. He dropped his gaze and swallowed against the knot in his throat because he knew it was true.

"Are you sure you—"

"Go to her, Ichigo." He sighed as Uryuu squeezed his hand consolingly. "I'll wait here."

Nel was precisely where they had left her, only with more tears soaking into the collar of her dress. Her subdued crooning ceased in surprise of his presence and she ineffectually wiped at her waterlogged visage. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the maudlin picture she made and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket in wordless offering.

"Would you knock it off? It's not like you'll never see me again."

"But…but I…"

"If Uryuu won't hold it against you, then I guess I can't, either."

Gaping at him for a fair amount of time, Nel eventually stood and asked, "May I have…a farewell hug?"

"Don't push your luck," he impulsively snapped. But seeing her crestfallen expression sparked a twinge of guilt so Ichigo grumbled, "Maybe next time we meet."

The hopeful tilt to her timid smile felt like closure. He walked away realizing that it wasn't the end of their relationship, but the start of a new version of it.

Uryuu was already balanced in the saddle when he returned and Ichigo wasted no time settling in behind him. He glanced over his shoulder with a question for which he already knew the answer.

"Better?"

"We'll see. Let's just head to the castle for now."

"What about your bag?"

"Leave it," he dismissed, winding his arms around Uryuu's waist. "I'm already holding the only thing I need."

THE END


	5. White Riding Hood Pt1

**White Riding Hood**

Part 1

* * *

Once upon a time there lived a responsible young man named Uryuu who often made trips through the forest to visit his revered grandfather. Uryuu's village comprised a small, cozy collection of homes nestled at the base of a mighty mountain range, but his grandfather lived alone near the stately peak. In order to see him, the man had to venture for a full day through challenging terrain and deep wilderness.

He didn't mind the trek, though. The elderly patriarch was Uryuu's best friend and favorite person; he would gladly travel much further if necessary. Even if his parents objected to his going alone for fear of recent wolf attacks in the region, and in poor weather besides.

"Mother, I will be fine," insisted Uryuu for the third time that morning. "I will bring my bow and if I leave now, I should miss the storm."

"I don't like the sound of that 'should'. Can't you visit another day?"

"Grandfather is waiting for the herbs I've harvested to finish a poultice. Waiting another day could be disastrous for his patient."

"He has a point, Kanae." Stepping in on his behalf, Uryuu's father soothed his worried wife with a gentle touch to her back. "The matter is quite urgent."

"I promise to be careful."

"But—"

"Uryuu is old enough to make his own decisions; he hasn't been our 'little boy' for some time."

That seemed to settle it. His mother frowned, worry lines etching into her pretty face, but held anymore protests on the subject. Slinging his bag over his head and his bow over his shoulder, Uryuu secured his white cloak at his throat and drew up the hood against the chill outside. He accepted the warm hug she offered and returned the respectful nod his father gave.

"I shall return within a fortnight."

The door creaked open and he was on his way.

Uryuu knew the path by heart, so his mind was free to wander and muse as he hiked the roughhewn trail up the mountainside. Appreciating the pristine landscape, he drank in the crisp winter air and enjoyed the muted tap of swaying branches. The hours swept swiftly by in this tranquil state of consciousness. He kept a steady pace all morning and only stopped briefly for a small lunch in the afternoon. Soon the clouds began to gather, as the village elders had foretold, and the winter storm threatening a dire blizzard darkened the swirling sky above. The brilliant light of stars and a full moon would be utterly concealed tonight.

More worrying than that, however, was the wolf he heard howling in the distance early that evening. Wolves were known to roam the woods but they had never bothered Uryuu before. Despite claims of a rogue wolf attacking a few villagers of late, it was his understanding that they were usually shy creatures too wary of humans to venture near him. Still, it would be foolish not to remain cautious throughout the last leg of his journey. He kept his eyes open and his ears attuned, becoming more on edge when the intermittent howls sounded closer each time.

By the time snow started to fall, Uryuu detected rustling in the brush up ahead. He drew to a stop and listened intently. His senses were focused and sharp, ready to notice the faintest indication of motion. Naught but the rattle of naked branches, the patter of fresh flakes, and the whisper of a cold breeze disturbed the forest. A moment passed and silence reigned. Suddenly a burst of white-dusted leaves revealed a burrowed squirrel scampering through the trees in search of safety. Uryuu smiled at his own paranoia as his measured footsteps resumed.

Dusk descended just as the outskirts of his grandfather's property came into view. The white-washed picket fence was almost invisible in the storm's increasing flurry. Snow fluttered and danced all around him, catching in his eyelashes and melting on his cheeks. Uryuu pushed open the unlocked gate and tugged his cloak closer about his shivering form. So eager was he to get inside and out of the elements that he eschewed his typical respectful knock in favor of rushing indoors.

"I've arrived, Grandfather," he casually called, kicking off his ice-caked boots by the door. "I have quite the amusing story to share, if you can believe it. Just now, I could have sworn I was almost set upon by…"

Uryuu turned to face the modest cabin proper and balked at what he saw. The room was dark, curtains drawn and candles snuffed. By a narrow sliver of dying light he could barely make out the silhouette of a body bundled in thick blankets on the narrow bed. A sour smell lingered in the air. Taking a step forward, he hesitated at the low rumble of a short growl.

"Stay back," warned his grandfather in a voice gravely altered by illness.

"What happened? Have you caught the malady you endeavored to cure?"

"Yes."

"I've brought the herbs you requested. Please tell me how to prepare the healing poultice."

Against advisement, Uryuu inched closer to get a better look. Whatever sickness Souken suffered was very serious. A heartier man than his grandfather couldn't be found, so for him to succumb meant the disease was incredibly dangerous. Considering he had been well enough to write and send a letter via carrier pigeon two days ago, this drastic shift in wellness was jarring.

A loose board squeaked underfoot, announcing his disobedience.

"Stop. No further."

"You need help, Grandfather," he firmly objected. "I will take precautions to avoid exposure, but you cannot expect me to leave you this way. You must let me tend to you! Where are your candles and matchsticks?"

"Forget them."

"I will not!" Another raspy growl was the only reply. "You can't tell me you are well enough to treat yourself when your words are gravelly and guttural."

"From coughing."

The blankets shifted slightly and the faint gleam of eyes appeared above it. There was something off about them. Uryuu shuffled nearer for a clearer view.

"Your eyes are wide and glossy."

"Too little sleep."

His grandfather brought both arms from under the covers and clenched the edge of the fabric. The flex of his fists emphasized a disturbing ripple in the muscles beneath wrinkled flesh. It was hard to be sure in the pervasive gloom, but he thought they were also a deeper tint than usual.

"Your hands are swollen and discolored."

"Poor circulation."

Uryuu had seen enough. As much as he held his grandfather in esteem, the older man was obviously delirious. His symptoms were varied and severe to the point that immediate action would be needed to save his life, if it was even possible. Crossing the remaining space between them, Uryuu leaned over the bed with a stern remark on the tip of his tongue. What he glimpsed slathered on his grandfather's face stole the sentence away.

"Your mouth…!"

A vicious snarl echoed around the tiny room as lips parted to flash the most ghastly display of carnivorous fangs imaginable. Blood and saliva mixed to exude an onerous miasma from that horrifying cavern. Uryuu reeled back with a shocked cry, clapping a hand to his own gasping mouth. In his haste to escape the beast impersonating his grandfather, his heel slid in something slippery and he clattered painfully to the hardwood floor.

The viscous substance was cold and sticky on the palms he used to break his fall. He brought one up to sniff and recoiled to learn it was more rancid blood. The floor was covered in it, congealing in splattered puddles largest beside the bed. A hiss of sliding cloth reminded Uryuu that the monster was there. It deigned to rise from its lazy sprawl across the mattress. Twin points of tall ears emerged from beneath rounded ones, and those deadly canines flashed in a languorous yawn. His eyes flared to see human flesh begin to slough off in lieu of black fur. Bones cracked and reformed, elongating and curving into the shape of another animal entirely.

It was a werewolf.

Scrambling to stand, Uryuu's socked foot tapped something that clicked and rolled. A scarlet-smeared bone. Not far from it was a meaty chunk of viscera. In the center of a round rug sat a lidless eyeball staring vacantly back at him. His gorge rose with the terrible epiphany that he was floundering in the remains of his murdered grandfather. White-hot terror painted his nerves and chilled his skin. Breaths came hard and thoughts ran thin. The werewolf was balancing on four legs atop the feather-stuffed mattress, arching in an unhurried stretch while Uryuu wasted precious moments frozen in disbelief.

Its grotesque transformation was complete. The werewolf licked its bloodstained chops and eyed him hungrily. Uryuu started to back away as he struggled for some semblance of a plan. His bow was not ideal in close quarters and the only other weapon he carried was a short hunting knife meant for shearing plants. It wouldn't do much against a beast this size but it was all he had. He pushed a shaking hand slowly under his cloak to close a fist around the handle. The werewolf bared its fangs and flattened its ears in blatant warning, tensing to lunge.

His fingers touched the door behind him, frantically feeling for the handle. They closed around it and gripped tightly. The wolf gave a battle growl and leapt from the bed. The door swung open as the monster's form sailed through the air toward him. Paws hit Uryuu square in the chest and they went tumbling out of the cabin into the blizzard outside. He collided into a snow bank beyond the porch steps, the impact knocking his breath out in a harsh whoosh and cracking the wood of his bow in half.

Jaws snapped onto the arm he held out to protect his throat. Uryuu screamed in pain and panic alike, pushing futilely at the powerful body pinning him to the frozen ground. Teeth and claws rent him apart one lightning-quick slash at a time as he fought in vain to preserve his own life. The dagger slashed out, only to be blocked by rigid ribs. His blade was promptly knocked from a weakened grasp to plunk into deep snow. A second anguished shriek was torn out of him as the werewolf used the opening to rip jagged lines across his chest.

There was so much red. Uryuu was covered in it, drowning in it, blinded by it.

Falling ice melted to mimic tormented tears trailing down his paling features. The creature's jaws sank into the soft tissue of his shoulder and he merely whimpered. He could scarcely feel the agony anymore, nor the cold engulfing him from all sides. Although he desperately scrabbled for the lost knife, Uryuu knew it was a useless effort. What dwindling strength had remained in him after a long day's hike and the shock of his grandfather's death was spilling and spraying out from the dozens of wounds yet being inflicted.

A final attempt at kicking the wolf away was thwarted by a rough shake of its head, with fangs still lodged into the flesh above Uryuu's clavicle. His vision blurred and his breath caught, failed. Arms collapsed to either side of his limp form. This was it. All that he had endeavored to make of his life over in an instant. The erratic squirm of his heart slowed and threatened to stop.

Uryuu turned glazed blue eyes up toward the grey-white sky and felt an odd clarity settle over him. The gurgle of blood and grind of bone dimmed to silence. His attacker's feral grunts and growls faded to the background. He thought of his parents and a despairing ache in the pit of his stomach eclipsed all other sensations. Uryuu prayed they would never discover the gruesome method of his and Souken's deaths. It was his dying wish.

As his eyes slid shut one last time, he almost thought he heard the telltale crunch of rushed footsteps.

* * *

Uryuu jolted awake, a gasp making him choke on something warm and salty and rich. It wasn't his own blood, he dimly realized a few seconds of coughing later, but a kind of flavorful broth. His eyes snapped open to hear a stranger's soothing voice.

"Hey, it's okay, you're safe. Try not to move around too much, you're still in pretty bad shape."

It was a man with sincere brown eyes and hair the hot hue of flickering firelight. He held Uryuu gently by his uninjured shoulder to keep him from accidentally aggravating his numerous cuts. All of which suddenly burned and throbbed with his renewed awareness of them. He winced, falling still for the sake of self-preservation alone. The invasive hand immediately left him as the man eased away to allow him a little space.

"Who are you?" he croaked.

"My name is Ichigo. I'm a hunter who recently moved into the region. I was tracking the beast that almost killed you."

"Then…is it dead?"

"Yes. As you will be if you don't calm down."

The truth of that statement was echoed in the uneasy jitter of his strained pulse. Uryuu felt lightheaded and queasy from the mild fright of waking in a strange bed. Though he should count himself incredibly lucky to be waking at all.

"Thank you for the aid, but I must return home now."

"Oh, no, you don't," firmly dissented Ichigo, once again holding Uryuu to the mattress by his good arm when he tried to rise. "You have been asleep for four days and nights; you are barely holding on to consciousness as it is. There is no way you can travel in this condition."

Arguing was pointless. He could sense his ephemeral concentration wavering. Taking steady, deep breaths Uryuu forced himself to relax and accept his fate. For now. He regarded Ichigo and decided to reciprocate the courtesy of an introduction.

"I am called Uryuu."

"I know. I was an acquaintance of your grandfather; he told me about you."

Thinking of Souken's corpse—rotting in sparse pieces carelessly scattered about his own cabin—brought that pit of despair back to his stomach. Even if Uryuu survived, his grandfather wasn't coming back. Not only that, but his parents had no idea of what happened. They wouldn't expect their son's return for another week and a half, much less suspect anything had gone awry. His mother would likely blame herself for letting him leave despite her misgivings, and his father would lose faith in Uryuu's ability to look after himself.

Reading the misery in his expression, Ichigo shifted his grip to clasp a hand with a murmur of condolence. Uryuu hastily pulled free of the uncomfortable hold.

"How severe are my injuries? When will I be able to travel?"

"Hard to say. I'm no healer, but I learned quite a bit from Master Souken in the short time I knew him. I would say you need at least a couple of weeks to replenish the blood you lost. Probably longer. Frankly, it is a wonder you lived at all."

He didn't like the sound of that. Uryuu had never been the outgoing type and unexpected social situations made him nervous. Being forced to sit bedridden in a foreign house while wearing someone else's clothes seemed akin to a nightmare for him. Glancing at the simple linen shirt draped over his bandaged torso, Uryuu dearly missed the familiarity of his own outfit. The shirt and vest he wore that day were undoubtedly ruined, but what about the rest of his wardrobe?

"What did you do with my cloak?"

"Ah, I had to burn it," he remorsefully admitted. "It was covered in blood, bound to attract hungry predators. I would have tried washing it in the river but it froze over in the blizzard."

Acknowledging the logic of that choice didn't change the fact that Uryuu had lost his favorite cloak in addition to everything else he could never get back after that attack. His grandfather, his sense of security, his love of the forest, his once-whole flesh. Perhaps even his humanity. Uryuu had always heard about the curse of lycanthropy. Like most villagers, he assumed they were just fanciful tales. Now he wasn't so sure.

"You said you were hunting that 'beast'." Ichigo nodded but didn't offer extra information. "Did you know… _what_ it was?"

A brief pause preceded a second nod. His features darkened in a foreboding seriousness and he said, "One of those ravenous demons killed my mother, years ago. I've been hunting them down ever since. All they do is devour and destroy. Once turned, they lose all morality and control. At that point, they no longer deserve pity or sympathy. They deserve to be erased like the savage scourge that they are."

Rendered mute in the wake of such an ardent diatribe, Uryuu had no response. He lifted trembling fingertips to lightly graze over gauzy pink-tinted fabric hiding a wicked bite mark. The legends held that a single bite, or sometimes just a scratch could turn you into one of those monsters on the next full moon. The only way to be certain was to wait and see.

"If I…if it happens to me, will you…?"

"Yes."

It was decisively spoken, but with a tinge of regret like Ichigo hoped he didn't have to. The sentiment was only vaguely reassuring. As was the knowledge that Uryuu had a safeguard to keep him from hurting anyone as he had been hurt. He was immensely grateful for that. A tentative relief tingled down his spine even as a pernicious anxiety spiraled up it. Uryuu would have to wait almost a full month, convalescing here without knowing whether it would amount to a second chance or inevitable defeat. It was guaranteed to feel like one long, uninterrupted gallows march. And that was presuming he wouldn't expire from complications before then.

"Can I sit up?"

Ichigo appraised him as though he thought it a gamble, but he helped Uryuu prop against the pillows stacked between the headboard nonetheless. The maneuver was arduous but he managed it. It took him a moment to catch his breath while the surge of pain gradually receded. His knuckles flashed white where they made tense fists around the blanket.

"Does it hurt that much?" asked Ichigo. "What can I do?"

"In my bag," he rasped, "Willow's bark. Steeped like tea."

"Got it. Just hold on, all right?"

He watched Ichigo snatch up his satchel across the room and rifle through its varied contents for the pouch with the proper label, scrawled on a scrap of parchment affixed with twine. Then he went to a barrel just outside the door for some fresh water. Uryuu caught a glimpse of the forest beyond, still cloudy and generously snow-covered despite the storm's evident passing. A rustic tea kettle was filled and hooked near the fireplace to boil. Ichigo broke off a few slivers of bark and plucked it into tiny pieces in a tall mug. Minutes later, steaming water was added. Uryuu eagerly sipped at the simple brew, held with both hands to keep it from spilling in their incessant quaver. The gracious ebb of persistent pain was soon to follow.

"Thank you," Uryuu whispered when his savior resumed his seat in the rickety chair beside the bed. He gave a loose shrug in response. "I truly mean that, Ichigo. Not many would do this for a total stranger. It would have been easier to leave me to die."

"No, it wouldn't. It'd be an affront to your grandfather's memory. Besides, I mentioned he told me a lot about you. I—" Cutting himself off to glance away in embarrassment, he reluctantly finished, "I sort of feel like I know you, in a way."

Uryuu wasn't sure what to think of that. Knowing Souken, he had probably embellished everything to make his grandson sound more remarkable than he actually was. Maybe Ichigo was under the mistaken impression that he was important or more interesting than reality allowed. That might explain his determination to keep Uryuu alive against harsh odds.

"Whatever the reason, I appreciate your efforts."

"You're welcome."

A discomfited hush stifled in the wake of somber topics. Uryuu sipped his analgesic tea and Ichigo's gaze cautiously made its way back to meet his. But Uryuu found his attention shifting curiously lower, observing the lines and angles of him beneath a thin shirt and plain trousers. Apparently, werewolf hunting was very good for the physique. He looked away before he could be caught gawking.

His stomach chose that moment to obnoxiously announce its current state of emptiness.

"Um," began Uryuu, but his host was already smiling in comprehension.

"Hungry? Makes sense, considering you've had nothing other than broth for the past four days," asserted Ichigo, eyes flicking to the half-full bowl forgotten on the table. "I'll whip up something more solid for us."

The man walked to a crate serving as storage for produce and preserved meat and set to work. Listening to the typical sounds of meal preparation, Uryuu's thoughts wandered to significantly more awkward subjects. He couldn't help picturing Ichigo feeding him shallow spoonfuls of soup, giving him careful sips of water for _days_ without complaint. Never mind the obvious fact that he rescued, carried, and tended to Uryuu after dispatching the devil that almost snuffed his proverbial light. In other words, Ichigo had to disrobe him, bathe him, dress his wounds, and fit Uryuu into borrowed clothes before snugly tucking him into the only bed in the small cabin. Where had Ichigo been sleeping all this time?

Abruptly growing dizzy, he realized he was blushing under the epiphany. Or trying to, with what miniscule amount of blood he retained. Ichigo darting a quick look at him only worsened the problem until he shut his eyes and leaned his head back to rest on the sanded wood frame. He would figure out a way to repay the hunter for his trouble; Uryuu's pride depended on it. Once he was fit enough, he could tidy up or chop lumber. If Ichigo owned a bow, he could borrow it to hunt in the forest. Uryuu could teach him quite a bit about herbs and healing techniques, since the man had been keen to learn the same from Souken.

There were also other, less conventional ways to express gratitude that Uryuu would be happy to—No, such notions were exceedingly inappropriate and not worth contemplating. He was blushing again, worse than before. The dizziness had progressed to feeling faint, and Uryuu set his empty mug on the narrow nightstand with a quiet rattle. Ichigo was there in an instant, pressing a hand to his forehead and exclaiming at the temperature he detected there.

"I'm perfectly fine," he snapped and ducked away from Ichigo's touch, "It's the heat from the tea."

"Fever means an infection, doesn't it?"

"It isn't a fever, and even if it was I just took the perfect medicine to combat it. Don't worry about me. Just focus on dinner."

Raising his eyebrows at Uryuu's authoritative tone, he snorted, "Your grandpa wasn't kidding about you being stubborn as a mule, huh?"

He frowned because he couldn't deny the claim. Regardless, Ichigo abandoned him as requested and attended the meal instead. A practiced cook, he had a stew bubbling by the fire in no time. It would be about an hour until it was ready to eat. In the meantime, he extracted a bundle of linen and tossed it on top of the blanket covering Uryuu's lap.

"What are these for?"

"We need to change those," he replied with a gesture to Uryuu's mock-mummified upper half, "I was holding off on doing it until the worst gashes closed up. The fact you haven't sprung a leak trying to wriggle around indicates they finally have."

In spite of his no-nonsense attitude, Ichigo was asking permission. He didn't approach until Uryuu assented with a dubious hum. The hunter stepped forward to gingerly remove his shirt and start unwinding the bandages one segment at a time. His hands were surprisingly gentle, and blissfully warm on cool skin. The focused set of his features proved precisely how seriously Ichigo took the task, how devoted he was to preventing as much unnecessary pain as possible. In return, Uryuu did his best to keep unavoidable twinges from registering on his face.

All ideas of manly stoicism faded when the last strip was removed and Uryuu looked down. It was so much worse than he anticipated. Raw, pink lines randomly criss-crossed from belly to throat, wrist to shoulder. The ones spanning the center of his chest were etched thicker and darker where the scabs had formed. Then there was the bite at his shoulder. Neat rows of puncture marks decorated the curve, having narrowly missed chipping the bones beneath. An indolent welling of blood was triggered from the sudden absence of pressure on the deepest impressions.

" _Shit_ ," swore Ichigo, "These shouldn't still be bleeding."

"No," Uryuu morosely agreed, "They shouldn't."

Hissing as alcohol was poured, Uryuu dipped his head forward so his hair would hide his expression. He concentrated on breathing soundlessly through it so Ichigo could work efficiently without distraction. Even with a fair amount of willow's bark smoothing out the frayed edges, he almost passed out. It was only through sheer force of will that he kept from slipping under while the wounds were meticulously cleansed, salved, and re-bandaged.

"Done," Ichigo announced. He perched beside him on the bed to tilt his chin up and catch hazy eyes. "It's done, Uryuu. The worst part is over. It only gets easier from here."

After a long moment of labored breaths, he gasped, "Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise. The rest is a breeze, you'll see."

The hunter was holding his hand again. This time Uryuu squeezed back, earning a quick quirk of a smile. For what it was worth, Ichigo's compassion made everything that much more bearable. It really did. But it couldn't keep him from feeling like a chewed up piece of mutton. Although Uryuu wasn't predisposed to vanity, this was pushing the limits of his modesty. This degree of damage ensured his scarring would be extensive. Back at his village, he recalled overhearing people commenting on the unsightliness of scars and blemishes like they were horrendously offensive. The mere sight of his warped flesh had become _offensive_ and there was nothing he could do to change that.

So, when Ichigo asked what was wrong, he answered without thinking.

"I'm hideous." Noting the startled look the hunter acquired, Uryuu amended, "On second thought, something like that…it doesn't matter in the slightest. I'm fortunate just to draw breath. F-forget I said anything."

He didn't mean to diminish what Ichigo had done for him or imply that he wasn't grateful. It was Uryuu's turn to look shocked when the hunter smoothly slipped his own shirt off to reveal a striking collection of marks. They ranged from nearly imperceptible scratches to ropey, winding rends. Apparently, werewolf hunting was also incredibly dangerous for the physique. The entire array proudly proclaimed _warrior_. Add that to the impressive wealth of healthy musculature they adorned and Uryuu felt his mouth slowly easing open of its own accord.

"Do you think I am 'hideous'?"

"No," breathed Uryuu because it was the truth.

"Scars are only ugly if you choose to perceive them that way. I choose to think of them as a kind of strength, a battle won or an obstacle overcome." Ichigo lifted a hand to hover over the bandaged path of claws above his heart, continuing, "To me, these marks are proof of your will to live, Uryuu. In that sense, they are beautiful."

He was trapped in the hunter's intense gaze. Rather, he didn't want to escape. The heat those brown eyes imparted assuaged Uryuu's worries like nothing he had ever known and he wasn't ready to give it up. Yet, the moment eventually passed whether he was ready or not. Ichigo put his shirt back on and helped Uryuu with his. He got up to stir the food and taste-test it, sprinkling in a little more salt.

They indulged idle small-talk until they could partake of the savory stew. Uryuu attempted to accept the bowl he was offered and groaned in dismay when his hands shook too much to hold it steady. Although the hands themselves remained intact, some of the tendons in his forearms were bruised from defending against the raking drag of powerful paws. They refused to coordinate the simple motions no matter how he struggled. He pushed the dish back at Ichigo and pressed his palms into stinging eyes.

"I'm so pitifully helpless, aren't I?" Uryuu caustically lamented. He was angrier than he was sad, but it was a close thing. "I know you must be tired of doing everything for me. Give me a moment and I will try again."

Infused with boundless patience, Ichigo was calmly watching him when Uryuu lowered his arms. The hunter scooped a spoonful and held it up in wordless offering. He turned his head away and Ichigo sighed.

"Listen, I know you're frustrated and hurting but you have to eat or you won't heal. If you can't feed yourself, I don't mind doing it until you can. So, stop acting like a sulking child and open your mouth."

Properly shamed, Uryuu had no choice but to let himself be fed. He told himself he hated every second of it. His face steamed, but Ichigo wasn't laughing at him. There was a notable respect in his disposition that made maintaining dignity easier for Uryuu.

They made it through the meal somehow. After the last drop was swallowed, Ichigo took the dishes outside to wash them in the snow. It was during this brief solitary interlude that Uryuu realized it was time to make a trip to the bathroom, wherever that may be. There were no other doors in the cabin aside from the main entrance. When Ichigo returned, he phrased the conundrum as politely as possible.

"It's outside," he said with a sympathetic cringe.

"Of course it is."

"I'll help you."

To which Uryuu stanchly replied, "I can manage."

And he made a valiant effort to rise from the bed and cross the room by himself. His legs were fine, after all, and there should be no problem. Except he had lost a great deal of blood and four days of rest was still a far cry from complete recovery. Ichigo caught him before he could tumble to the unforgiving floor. He draped one of Uryuu's arms across his shoulders and wrapped one of his own around a slim waist. His protests were anticipated and thwarted.

"What manner of caretaker would I be to let you stumble about in the snow? At least let me guide you to the outhouse like this and then you're on your own. Deal?"

Uryuu didn't approve of the deal but he was growing too tired to care. With a hot meal in his belly, fatigue was saturating him from the inside out. The pillow seemed awfully inviting and he was running out of time to resist its lure.

"Let's go."

They made it there with little difficulty. Ichigo left him to lean against the crude wooden rectangle and strode a moderate distance apart from him. Uryuu opened the door and peered in, oozing trepidation. He wasn't squeamish, per se, but he had a penchant for cleanliness and this was a first. It didn't appear to be as revolting as he feared.

"I'll be right over here if you need anything," Ichigo cheerily said as he stepped inside. Uryuu got the feeling he was definitely being laughed at this time. "Watch out for spiders!"

"Shut up!"

Slamming the door with him inside, the first thing Uryuu did was check the space for spiders. There were none—that he could find—and he went about his business in the interest of leaving the unsanitary box as swiftly as he could. When he was done, Uryuu paused to thoroughly scrub his hands in the snow. Ichigo strolled up with a teasing smirk.

"Congratulations! Now you have survived a werewolf attack _and_ a trip to an actual outhouse."

Ichigo snickered at his dumb joke and Uryuu started to march past him toward the cabin. He took three steps, felt the disorienting tug of gravity, and pitched forward. Again, Ichigo was there to keep him from face-planting into the ice. An arm braced at his back and tucked under his knees to lift him from the ground as if he weighed nothing at all. Uryuu knew he was on the slender side, but this was just ridiculous.

"Put me…down."

Although he meant it to be loud and demanding, his words fluttered from his lips and drifted down like delicate feathers. Uryuu was very tired. His eyelids slid lower though he fought to raise them higher. Before he knew it, they were back in the cabin and Ichigo was placing him on the mattress. He pulled the blanket over Uryuu and shook his head at the way he automatically nestled into the pillow.

"I guess a few hours is your limit for today, eh? Sleep well, Uryuu."

* * *

He woke up later that night from terrifying visions of recent trauma. The malicious gleam of tooth and claw permeated his mind's eye. Uryuu labored to sit up and reorient in the hope of calming his racing heart. The cabin's interior was dark, lit only by a hint of hearth light. The fire was banked, coals glowing vermillion and radiating generous warmth against winter's chill. On the other side of the room rested Ichigo, prone on the floor with nothing but a cured wolf's pelt as a makeshift bed. It appeared the hunter didn't even own a spare blanket.

It looked so much colder over there.

Call him soft-hearted, but Uryuu didn't like the idea of ousting the man from his own bed for a night, much less a _month_. It would be one thing if he were Ichigo's guest but their situation was far from anything so typical. Judging by what little Uryuu knew of his host's personality, trading places was out of the question. In that case, would it be so intolerable to share the bed? It was wide and sturdy enough to support two. Plus, there were certainly such things as platonic bedfellows. Weren't there?

On the other hand, perhaps his reasoning wasn't the clearest it had ever been. His mind was still fuzzy from sleep and the terrors it now held for him. Uryuu reached out for the cup of water left on the side table but he only succeeded in knocking it to the floor with a clang and a slosh. Reacting to the noise, Ichigo stirred and sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I was just thirsty, and clumsy with fatigue."

"Here, let me."

Before Uryuu could dissuade him, he was up and retrieving a fresh mug of water for him. Ichigo took his usual spot on the chair by the bed and held the clay in front of his mouth to sip. A murmured word of thanks announced his fill. The hunter left the cup on the table and started to rise but Uryuu darted out a hand to encircle his wrist. Confused by this gesture, Ichigo lowered back into the seat and waited for him to speak. It took a long moment for the right words to come to him.

Finally, he simply said, "Stay…it's cold."

It wasn't a lie. Between the fire and the blanket, Uryuu was still a tad cooler than he would prefer. And Ichigo didn't need to know his guest was slightly more concerned about the host's welfare than his own. The hunter's confusion only doubled in the wake of his reticent request.

"Do you mean…?" His eyes dropped to the empty spot on the mattress. Uryuu nodded. "Are you sure?" He pulled the covers back invitingly. Ichigo swallowed and said, "Okay. For the sake of keeping you warm while you heal."

"Of course."

They left it at that, no further discussion required. Uryuu was glad he wouldn't be the cause of the hunter's suffering. He told himself that was all he was glad about as Ichigo settled in beside him on the narrow bed and shut his eyes with a soft sigh of comfort. And if Uryuu stole a long look at his unguarded profile in the near-darkness, no one needed be the wiser. Except brown eyes peeked open to catch him staring. He jerked his gaze away but the damage had been done.

"What is it?" asked Ichigo.

"Nothing. I was just thinking…you are very good at this. Caretaking, I mean. Have you had much experience? I assume I'm far from the first werewolf victim you've encountered."

The hunter shifted to his side and rested his head on a bent arm. He nodded and said, "There have been others. Most don't last minutes, much less days or more. Once I vanquished a wolf preying on a young girl. Just like you, her injuries were extensive but I did the best I could to help her recover. In the end, she didn't make it. My sisters were about the same age at the time and watching her die while thinking it could easily have been one of them was…it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do."

"I'm sorry."

He had a sad, far-off cast to his gaze as if he were reliving that miserable time all over again. It was Uryuu's turn to offer some form of consolation. With only a slight hesitation, he reached out to find Ichigo's hand beneath the blanket. Their fingers touched and the hunter twitched in surprise. Perceiving rejection, Uryuu made to retract the gesture but his hand was securely caught before he could tuck it away. Ichigo's eyes were on his, a grateful curve to his lips.

"As long as you make it back to full health, I'm not a total failure. Right?"

Uryuu's eyes flared at the absurd notion. "Are you crazy? Of course you aren't a failure! Killing even one of those beasts could potentially save dozens, hundreds of lives. Do you have any idea how selfless someone has to be to drop everything else they care for and commit their life to this cause? I couldn't name a single person in my village who would make the same decision."

"Not even you?"

A self-conscious weight settled over Uryuu as he shook his head, though he was unsure. Could he abandon his home, his parents, his friends and put his neck on the line day after day to rid the world of one rapacious slaughterer after another? His mother's unease and his father's sense of familial duty would never allow it. Even if he were truly brave enough to attempt such a hazardous lifestyle. Didn't Ichigo have any loved ones urging him to give it up?

"You mentioned sisters. Are they…?"

"Still alive, as far as I know. I haven't visited them in a couple of years. My dad is looking after them, though."

"They are tolerant of your mission?" Ichigo glanced away and frowned. A tingling wash of dismay chilled Uryuu's bones. "They don't know?"

"It's better this way. If I don't give them a reason to, they won't worry."

There was a certain degree of logic in that sentiment, although Uryuu didn't necessarily agree with it. What if the next wolf got the better of him? Who would tell the hunter's family what became of him? Who would tell them all the noble deeds he performed in service to the Greater Good? Who would mourn his loss and remember him the way he deserved? It seemed so terribly unfair that Ichigo had to endure this cause in solitude. He should be lauded as a Hero, not overlooked in obscurity.

During Uryuu's internal monologue, the hunter rolled onto his back and let his eyes fall closed once more. Being similarly lulled toward rest, he resolved to expand on this topic in the near future. For now, he was content knowing that at least for a short period, Ichigo wouldn't be utterly alone.

His last conscious thought was about the realization that their hands were still clasped in the scant space between their bodies, and the profound sense of warmth enveloping him because of it.

* * *

AN: To be continued...


	6. White Riding Hood Pt2

**White Riding Hood**

Part 2

* * *

More than a week had passed—swift as a blink—and Uryuu was feeling more energetic by the day but he was still far from fully recovered. Despite inevitable hardship, he was enjoying his time with the hunter. Every morning they woke, cooked, and ate breakfast together. He did what he could to help out around the cabin and contribute his share in the afternoon. Which mostly entailed sharing his knowledge of botany and herbal medicine, and that was fine. At night, Uryuu would crawl into bed and leave space for one more. Ichigo would ask if he was cold and the answer was always 'yes'. Fortunately for Uryuu, his host's honor could not abide such a lapse in a guest's needs.

Conversation flowed easily and he relished every chance to learn more about Ichigo. His various travels and adventures were particularly interesting. Uryuu was subject to just as much curiosity, and before he knew it they felt like old pals. Of all the villagers he called 'friend', none of them had the heart, the intellect, or the unflinching audacity to be unique that characterized Ichigo so thoroughly. It was almost enough to make him forgive the wolf who mauled him, unintentionally bringing them together. Until Uryuu remembered Souken's murder and his family's unavoidable grief over that fact.

Noticing his sullen demeanor, Ichigo paused in the act of whittling a new bow and asked, "What's on your mind?"

"My family will be expecting me back tomorrow afternoon. They still don't know about my grandfather's passing."

He set down the piece of flexible wood and crossed the room to sit beside Uryuu, pushing aside the bowl of potatoes he was peeling for dinner. One glance at the hunter's solemn face and he knew what would come next.

"I know you want to visit them but you are not yet strong enough to travel that considerable distance. If it means that much to you, I will venture into your village and tell them."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," dismissed Uryuu, shaking his head. "It is a full day and night's journey there and back. Besides, receiving such vital information from a stranger would only devastate them more. It's better that they hear it from their son."

Considering that for a long moment, Ichigo nibbled his lower lip in deep thought. He looked at Uryuu before glancing away, conflicted by whatever subject he was silently debating. Finally, he sighed and met curious blue eyes.

"All right. We shall go together."

"Really?"

"Only if you feel up to it. We can go slowly, and rest when you grow tired. It won't be easy, Uryuu," he sternly warned, "But I understand wanting to protect your parents from the anxiety of fretting for their only child."

"Thank you."

"Under the condition that you have to promise to return here with me, because we still don't know whether…"

Whether or not Uryuu would turn into one of the very things Ichigo mercilessly hunted. Yes, there was also that circumstance to consider. Perpetually looming over their optimistic attempts to 'play house' like everything was just fine. The reality was it didn't matter how they felt about each other. If he became a werewolf, the hunter would do his job and prevent Uryuu from doing to others what had been done to him. They couldn't risk leaving him in the village until they knew for sure.

"I understand: I promise to return."

"Good." Shoulders easing with relief, Ichigo retrieved the fresh-hewn bow and handed it over to him. "What do you think?"

Born to a family of archers, Uryuu had held many such weapons in his lifetime. The wood was of excellent stock, the length and breadth ideal for hitting anything from pheasant to buck with high accuracy. Running his fingers along the smooth grip, he couldn't help appreciating the workmanship. This wasn't the first bow Ichigo had ever carved. All it needed was a sturdy string and a quarrel of fine-fletched arrows.

"It is excellent. You have a talent for woodwork, Ichigo."

An endearing smile overtook his features. He replied, "I am glad you think so. It's yours."

"You made this for me?" Uryuu gaped, awed by the implications of such a gift. "But my shoulder—"

"Will be back to normal sooner than you think."

Touching the grievous wound they only stopped bandaging yesterday, he wasn't as confident as Ichigo appeared to be. It caused him quite a bit of discomfort if he tried to move it too much or too quickly. He still woke up each morning and winced from its stubborn stiffness. Secretly, Uryuu expected never to regain complete function of the joint. It was yet another thing he had reluctantly accepted rather than pointlessly ruminate over.

Ichigo read the gist of his thoughts in his downtrodden expression. He stood and moved to stand behind Uryuu at the edge of the bed frame. Gently, he placed those strong, talented hands to the afflicted shoulder and began to knead away some of its strain. Sweet sparks of pain-laced pleasure erupted from the delicate attentions and it was all Uryuu could do to stay silent. It was helping. He could tell it was helping because the tight little knots in the muscles began to loosen and dissolve even as his fingers clenched in the blanket covering his legs.

Soon, his injuries felt better than ever before and the relief was making him lightheaded. Taking Uryuu's arm by the elbow, he lifted it up and rotated it in a slow circle. The hunter was testing for limitations in the natural range of motion and he found some, but they weren't as pronounced as feared. It was unpleasant but not unbearable, which suggested the flesh was healing well.

"You're right," murmured Uryuu, "It is already better than I assumed."

"See? Worried for nothing. We just have to make sure you remember to move it around a little each day. Does this hurt?"

'This' being a palm sliding into the wide collar of a borrowed shirt to graze against the worst of the tender gashes. He tensed up more from the shock of Ichigo's unexpected touch on his skin than any notable ache. It vanished immediately, followed by a quiet apology. The hunter started to pull away but Uryuu caught his wrist to keep him close and tilted his head back to look up at him.

"It doesn't hurt. Actually… it is just the opposite."

Their eyes met, and Ichigo's widened. He turned away, taking his magnificent hands with him, and cleared his throat for lack of an immediate response. Uryuu felt so foolish. What had he been thinking, saying something like that aloud? The hunter was merely interested in his physical wellbeing; he didn't need to hear that his innocent attempts were having an unintended effect. It wasn't like him to act so shamefully forward! What was wrong with him?

"I…I should gather some more firewood before it gets dark," Ichigo abruptly announced.

Uryuu watched him flee the small cabin without waiting for a response. A maudlin lump rose to his throat and stuck there, determined to stay no matter how he tried to swallow it down. He had let his inappropriate inclinations show through the barrier of Better Judgment, inadvertently forcing Ichigo to endure them, as well. Uryuu would not make that mistake again.

* * *

They spent the rest of that evening preparing for the trek to Uryuu's village. Rising early the next morning, they set out with the first rays of sun and inwardly mourned the season's shortness of days. Snow still purged the landscape of its colors, and heavy clouds blurred the sky into a dull swath of grey. A howling wind spitefully bit at exposed flesh and nudged at layered clothing. The conditions were far from ideal—an observation emphasized when an insidious dusting of flakes began to sprinkle down upon them.

Uryuu pulled his loaned cloak tighter about his frame and ignored the ragged tremble of his limbs. He distracted himself from the uncomfortable hike by brooding over how the meeting with his parents would go. They were bound to be confused, horrified, and distressed by all that had transpired since he left them two weeks ago. He only hoped they could take solace in his survival, if nothing else.

They didn't need to know there was a small chance their son could become a monster.

The thought triggered an epiphany: they were very near his grandfather's cabin, and the gruesome scene that had been left to rot all this time. His heart burned to think Souken's disassembled corpse was garishly decorating the interior of his home, a place Uryuu had considered sanctuary since he was old enough to make the journey up the mountain to visit. Drawing to a halt, he raised his chin assertively and waited for Ichigo to glance back.

"I want to stop by my grandfather's cabin."

"What? Uryuu, that—"

"It isn't right, Ichigo. Leaving him like that? I can't do that to him. He deserves better!"

"Wait here and I will—"

"No. He would want me to be strong. He would want…" Souken would want to be remembered as the kind, brilliant, patient man with the gentle smile that Uryuu loved so dearly. Not as a mangled heap of broken bones and frozen chunks. Squeezing his eyes shut, he whispered more to himself, "I have to be strong."

Ichigo was at his side, pressing a reassuring palm to the center of his back. "Then let's go."

A few minutes' walk was all it took. A white-blanketed bump in the front yard marked the final resting place of the creature to blame for all this torment. Uryuu bent a knee to brush the snow from its head. He was shocked to discover not a fur-covered snout but a human face frozen in a wail of rage and agony, spurred by the killing blow Ichigo had dealt to save his life. As he stared, the same surge of rage and agony filled Uryuu, for very different reasons.

He let himself hate the wolf with every ounce of his essence.

Then he took a slow breath in, and let the emotions hiss out on a measured exhale. It was done, over, finished. Nothing would bring his grandfather back but the same fate applied to the pitiful demon at his feet. Continuing to loathe it so ardently would only harm him in the end. Besides, Uryuu of all people should have been able to muster some sympathy for the wolf who likely had not chosen the path of violence it had instinctively meted out.

He rose and cautiously approached the entrance, Ichigo close at his heels. Pushing the door open, Uryuu was struck with the rancid reek only advanced decay could produce. Even the dim light of an overcast winter morning was enough to confirm the scene just as nightmarish as he recalled.

Amid a woven rug sat the same disembodied eyeball, now deflated and discolored with decomposition. He barely made it back outside to vomit in the snow instead of adding to the putrefaction within.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo helplessly intoned, "I'm so sorry, Uryuu."

The retching spell passed and the hunter helped him stand. He was too weak and shaky to support himself, but Ichigo was steady as a rock. Guiding Uryuu to lean against the wall, he kept murmuring calming phrases that went undeciphered but appreciated nonetheless. The tone of his voice was an invaluable balm on frayed nerves. It was just enough to let him cough up two words.

"Burn it."

"Huh?"

Wiping his mouth, Uryuu waveringly repeated, "Burn it to the ground. I never want to see this house again. Please, Ichigo."

"Okay," he said, catching on, "Of course. If that's what you want, I'll do it. Go stand at the gate and I'll get the kerosene."

"Thank you."

It was barely a murmur but Ichigo heard it, could probably _feel_ it in the way Uryuu literally sagged with gratitude. He shuffled over to the gate and collapsed to the frigid earth as he watched Ichigo disappear into that den of horrors with a large jug of lamp oil. Moments later, the orange bloom of fire cast wretched shadows from the gaping doorway. Ichigo emerged and came to sit next to him against the fence. They lingered there in silence as the crackling flames erased everything his grandfather had ever owned from the mountainside.

Maybe it was the finality of it, or the irrefutability that Souken really was gone forever, but seeing that cabin smoke and crumble broke through the last of Uryuu's emotional defenses. The tears sprang up and tumbled down without warning. He didn't even try to blot them dry. His grandfather deserved to be mourned properly, pride be damned! Uryuu didn't even have it in him to be self-conscious about it. Ichigo had seen him at his worst anyway; what was a bout of crying on top of everything else?

When the sorrow began to subside, the hunter slipped something from his black cloak and held it out for Uryuu to see. It was an old 'photograph' of he and Souken from years ago, the only one ever taken of the two of them. He had forgotten all about it.

"I figured you might want that," Ichigo explained. "He showed it to me once; it's how I recognized you that day."

Uryuu took the sheet of paper and blearily gazed at it, swimming in nostalgia. "I had just turned fifteen. A merchant passed through the village boasting a new invention that could capture an exact likeness. Grandfather always loved such novelties."

"And he loved _you_ , Uryuu. Never forget that." With that, Ichigo stood and offered a hand to help him up, saying, "Come on. Let's go home."

"Home? But—"

The hunter pulled him off the ground and firmly stated, "You are in no shape to make the trip after this. Look at you! You seem ready to faint and your lips are turning blue. We can leave first thing tomorrow. Your parents won't worry too much over one day."

"Ichigo…"

"We will leave tomorrow and that is final. I won't risk you falling ill over this!"

In the wake of his superior sense and heartening concern, Uryuu could launch no viable resistance. Although it bothered him to think of his mother awaiting his arrival today, he knew she would understand and condone the decision to delay.

"All right. Let's go home."

* * *

It was the middle of the night and Uryuu was exhausted, but he could not bring himself to rest.

He and Ichigo had walked all day, taking hours more than usual due to his condition, and eventually made it to the village long after sun down. Delivering the news to his parents as gently as possible, Uryuu had been unable to do much to soften such a grievous blow. His father had paced and his mother had sobbed. So distraught over what had transpired were they that Ichigo's presence was nearly forgotten. Until the part of the tale where he became the only reason they still had their son.

Brimming with appreciation, Kanae had embraced him and Ryuuken even shook his hand. It made Uryuu proud to see them accept the hunter so readily, just as he had. They had invited Ichigo to stay for dinner and take the guest room for the night. A mere wall separated them now, but to Uryuu it seemed to be _fathoms_.

The candle lighting his bedroom sputtered and died, leaving only dim moonbeams to glaze the room in a pale spotlight. Rolling to stifle a frustrated groan against the pillow, he resented the fact that it smelled too strongly of him and not at all of Ichigo. He felt guilty, knowing he had not been homesick in all the time he was away. Uryuu had missed his mother dearly, however, and was happy she would not have to mourn him as well as her father-in-law. At least, not for a while longer.

He still hadn't told her he would be leaving again tomorrow, and he could certainly never tell her _why_.

The covers were promptly discarded and Uryuu rose from his bed. His feet carried him out into the hall and to the next door down, where Ichigo stayed. A quiet tapping—far too light to disturb slumber—composed a polite request for entry. It was immediately answered by the hunter's low voice, muffled through the dense wooden door. He sat up as Uryuu stepped inside, silently closing the door behind him.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," assured Ichigo, "I couldn't sleep. You?"

Uryuu shook his head, awkwardly hovering on the opposite side of the room with his gaze on the floor. He wasn't sure why he had wanted to visit with the man; they had just spoken after dinner little more than an hour earlier. There was nothing new to discuss. Nothing specific he needed to say. Yet, simply occupying the same space as Ichigo was soothing some of the anxiety that kept sleep at bay. It felt wrong to rely on him so much when he had already helped Uryuu more than he could ever repay.

"I…I just wanted to thank you for doing this. I would never have made it all the way here on my own. Not for another week, at best."

"Of course. I am happy to do it."

The genuine smile Ichigo showed him proved it was true. As always, it warmed Uryuu to his bones. It also set his insides squirming and his blood heating. Shuffling his feet, he searched for a way to excuse himself before he could say anything silly to embarrass himself again. Really, one would think a grown—albeit young—man could comport himself with a bit more poise than Uryuu had mustered lately.

"Well, I suppose I should let you get some rest. Sleep well, Ichigo."

He turned to leave, fingers curving around the handle, but the hunter called, "Uryuu?"

"Yes?"

"…Are you cold?"

It was like hot tea on a chilly morning. The sun emerging from amid rainclouds. A tiny green sprout breaking through freshly thawed soil. Uryuu melted where he stood, tipping forward to lean his head against the door with a stilted sigh. How could such a plain phrase sound so poetic and be so comforting? He fought its allure, twisting the handle as he summoned a false reply.

"No, I—"

Startled by the grip suddenly tugging his from the doorknob, he froze to hear Ichigo speak right behind him, "Well, I am. You wouldn't leave your guest to suffer the throes of winter alone, would you?"

Just like that, he found himself being led to the bed without an avenue for escape. Even if 'escape' was the last thing Uryuu wanted in this context, there was no reason for the arrangement. They had their own beds in their own bedrooms in a sturdy house well-insulated from the cold. There were no more excuses. Though as he settled onto the mattress and let Ichigo drape the blanket over them, he knew it was precisely where he wanted to be.

The inquisitive gaze directed at him in the near-darkness forced Uryuu to turn away, so the hunter could not read the forbidden thoughts in his expression. Ichigo refused to let him hide. He raised up to stare at his profile. Uryuu pushed at his chest and rolled further away.

"Stop it. Go back to sleep."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong. Are you still worried about your folks? I think they are handling it as well as can be expected." Remaining reticent, he let Ichigo presume whatever he pleased. Anything was better than the truth. "Or are you thinking about what you're going to say in the morning? I can tell them a story, if you prefer. I know I could never lie to my own parents about important matters."

"I will be the one to tell them."

"All right. That's fair." He fell silent for a moment, and Uryuu dared to dream he would stay that way. Then Ichigo took hold of his good shoulder and pulled him to lie on his back. The fierce focus in his eyes made evasion impossible. "If it isn't fear for your parents, then why won't you look at me?"

"Why must I look at you?" he testily countered, "I am tired and eager to get to sleep."

"You have been acting strangely all night, Uryuu. Whatever it is, you shouldn't brood about it by yourself. I will listen, so tell me what is upsetting you."

Pushed to his limit, he abandoned the bed and Ichigo alike to pace around the small floor in a close imitation of his father's actions earlier in the evening. He felt trapped, confined in his own mind with a collection of dreadful notions he didn't dare broach. Only he didn't have a choice anymore. The hunter's imposing sympathy was the last straw in a massive heap piled atop his chest and Uryuu couldn't bear the weight of it anymore.

"Two weeks! Twelve days, to be exact. That is how long I may have to live. Tomorrow I will lie to my parents and it may be the last they ever see of me. Furthermore, for you, I…" Risking a glance at his sole audience, paying rapt attention, Uryuu felt a familiar suffocating pressure take hold just beneath his tongue. "I barely know you and yet…Will you keep your promise, Ichigo? Will you kill me with your own hands if mine were to sprout claws?"

The hunter did not provide a straight answer. He took a deep breath and tried, "What is the point in dreading what may never happen? Better to treat each day as a fresh opportunity and choose to believe it will work out in your favor. Don't make yourself miserable fearing your Fate."

So, he was just supposed to ignore the fact that every conversation, every smile, every gaze brought him that much closer to falling for the one person sworn to dispatch Uryuu if he became the very thing that allowed them to meet in the first place? To make matters worse, he couldn't even say it aloud. He knew Ichigo didn't feel the same for him and probably never would. Spending more time with him would be a double-edged blade that sliced even as it mended.

Left with no ready rebuttal, Uryuu's only recourse was to walk out. He returned to his own bed and glared up at his ceiling until fatigue finally smothered his roiling thoughts.

* * *

It hurt so much. Every nerve aflame, every bone breaking, every bit of his flesh splitting. Uryuu gaped in dismay as black follicles pierced through his skin in countless droves. Fingernails fell one-by-one into the snow at his feet, replaced by sharply curved talons. The eldritch sound of his own spine snapping went undetected in the wake of a powerful wave of agony. The Change was truly upon him. He had never felt anything like it. And he never would again.

From across the pristine field sprinted Ichigo, wielding an axe in one hand and a hunting knife in the other. There were so many things Uryuu wanted to say. To thank him for trying so hard to help. To apologize for making him do this. To forgive him for that very thing. To bid him a last farewell. He opened his mouth and a ferocious growl tumbled out instead. Ichigo raised the axe for a killing blow but the hunter hesitated at the last instant.

Uryuu lunged. He was no longer in control of his actions. Something brutal and base had invaded his mind, guiding his limbs to reach and rake and rend. Blood splashed out in an arc to stain the ice all around them. The weapons fell from Ichigo's hands as he dropped to his knees. Uryuu's sorrowful scream pealed across the barren night sky as a victorious howl. He tasted the hunter's life force between his fangs, ravenously gnashing for more even as he was drenched in the most abject horror.

Within moments, Ichigo was dead. And Uryuu ate the very heart from his chest.

He gasped and bolted upright in the darkness, trembling all over. The blanket was tangled up around his legs and he could dimly perceive the familiar shapes that made up Ichigo's cabin. A concerned grip at his arm told Uryuu he had just been awoken from another nightmare. Turning to meet the hunter's eyes then was a trial in its own right. It was too easy to imagine those features hidden behind a mask of red and pain. Too easy to picture his lifeless form shredded in the snow. The naked empathy in Ichigo's countenance made him all the more heartbreaking to behold.

"Uryuu…?"

His chest ached so much he could scarcely breathe. Somehow, he gathered enough air to hoarsely respond, "I'm all right. Just a dream."

Yet, Ichigo remained unconvinced. He released Uryuu's arm to touch his cheek instead. When it came away wet, he shrank back from the hunter and hastily wiped the incriminating tears away.

"Uryuu," he stated more firmly, "The nightmares are getting worse, aren't they? Of course they are, there is only one day left before—"

"I said I am fine! Leave it alone, Ichigo. We have already established that there is nothing you can do."

That more than anything made the hunter balk. Over the past eleven days they had done their very best to pretend everything was perfectly normal and not at all borderline catastrophic. Going about their usual activities and having typical conversations had become their elaborate coping mechanism for a possibility too repugnant to dwell on. When Uryuu had started having nightmares on a regular basis, neither of them had dared acknowledge the cause. That is, until he began weeping in his sleep for fear of him murdering Ichigo rather than the other way around.

Fighting his way free of the twisted blanket, Uryuu stormed from the cabin into the dead of night outside. The first breath of frigid winter air sliced into his lungs with cruel welcome. This was where he belonged, not huddled safely inside with Ichigo and all his intrinsic warmth. Hadn't he taken enough from the hunter already? There had to be another way than subjecting him to more danger and suffering on Uryuu's behalf.

He lifted his eyes to the shadow-smudged horizon and wondered if he could lose Ichigo in the forest and get far enough away before the next moonrise. If it meant eliminating the risk of hurting him, Uryuu would gladly run until he collapsed. A casual crunching announced company even as his muscles tensed on the cusp of a decision unmade. A heavy cloak settled around his shoulders and Ichigo stepped into view.

"Don't even think about it," he quietly warned. "You may know these woods better than I, but my tracking skills are second to none. You can't run from this."

Uryuu stared straight at him, more serious than he had ever been, and replied, "Then you must restrain me."

Frowning in confusion, Ichigo blurted, "What?"

"Rope. There is a sizable coil in the trunk beneath the wash basin." When the hunter opened his mouth to object, Uryuu fervently added, "This isn't a suggestion! I won't risk harming you, Ichigo, and the very least we should do is ensure I am unable to attack. You must swear it!"

"Swear that I will tie you down like a criminal just because you _might_ turn?" he indignantly demanded. "Why don't I just lock you in a cage while we're at it?"

"If you have one handy."

Ichigo's jaw clenched in the only display of anger he had ever shown. He looked away from Uryuu and struggled to control his breathing, rapidly puffing out in pale, ephemeral billows. His hands were shaking at his sides so he balled them into fists.

"No. I won't do it because you are not going to turn."

"We cannot know that for certain. This is the best way to ensure your safety—"

"I don't care about that!"

The fierce edge to his voice echoed across the still landscape. Somewhere in the distance, a startled owl screeched and took flight. Uryuu's widened eyes slowly narrowed in determination.

"Well, I _do_ and this is how we must proceed. Even if it is to be my dying wish."

The latter comment closed the debate. Ichigo scowled but held further protests. Although Uryuu appreciated his concern, he didn't completely understand the issue. It made sense to do whatever was necessary to prevent another scenario like the one that got them into this mess in the first place. What was a few hours spent bound compared with the security of sparing a life?

"Fine," grumbled the hunter at length. "But for the record, I do not agree with it. At any rate, let's go back inside before we both freeze."

A tingling cascade of relief ran through Uryuu as the matter was settled and they started toward the cabin. Knowing the hunter would likely remain unscathed allayed so much anxiety that he nearly stumbled on the steps. Even if this was his last day, he could face it with courage because he would readily die if it meant Ichigo could live.

The wisp of a revelation, flitting so fleetly through his mind, sank into Uryuu and staggered him to his core. Bracing against the open doorway, he examined the unassuming whisper of shocking veracity. His trivial infatuation had spread and deepened over the course of their month together, totally unbeknownst to him. _Love_ had cunningly claimed his soul without his consent.

Dragging his gaze up from the floor, it settled on Ichigo, regarding him with a question on his face.

"In the trunk," Uryuu diverted, "Make sure there are no frayed spots. Do you know how to tie a proper knot, or shall I show you?"

Rather than answer, Ichigo's frown deepened as he fetched the rope and inspected it as prompted. He tossed the heavy coil to the floor between them with a resonant _thud_ when he was finished.

"Perfect condition, I'm sure you are pleased to hear."

"Brilliant. Then there should be no complications." The hunter rolled his eyes and crossed the cabin to collapse on the mattress facing the wall. "What are you doing?"

"Going back to sleep. Dawn is a few hours away and dusk even further from that."

"I hope you don't intend to wait for dusk to use this!" he exclaimed, lifting an end of the rope in pointless emphasis. "What if the legends are wrong? What if the first change comes sooner? What if—"

"What if nothing happens at all and you wasted all this energy being worried and irritating me for no reason?"

While Ichigo had a valid—though rudely communicated—point, Uryuu wasn't satisfied. It made him nervous to be in the same room as the slumbering hunter since they had no way to anticipate when the Change might manifest. Cloud cover made it difficult to confirm the moon's phase. What if they were off by a day and he was actually supposed to turn tonight? It could've just been taking a long time to go into effect. His comfort wasn't worth the risk. Uryuu grabbed the rope and dropped it onto the bed. Ichigo rotated to glare over his shoulder.

"At least bind my hands and feet for now."

"You must be joking," he flatly replied. Uryuu shook his head to indicate he wasn't. "Will you not stop this madness and go back to sleep?"

Again, he shook his head and Ichigo sighed. Sitting up, he snatched the coil and hurriedly complied. The result was a sloppy, loose thing that really wasn't ideal but Uryuu knew pushing the issue would only instigate a row. Ichigo huffed and flopped against the pillow as soon as the last knot was tightened. His body language was tense, proclaiming that he would hear no more of this topic for the rest of the night. For his part, Uryuu was grateful for the compromise. Now he could rest peacefully just a little longer…beside the man he had apparently grown to love.

* * *

"I am _not_ tying you to a post on the porch, Uryuu, and that is final!"

"You have to! The chair simply isn't sturdy enough."

"Sturdiness is not the problem," asserted Ichigo. "Why involve furniture at all? Look at you, covered chest to ankles in tethers! Not even a werewolf could break free before I could find a blade."

"Ah, speaking of blades you should keep one at hand—"

"Enough! I won't hear another word of this. I'm done."

"We will be done when I say and no sooner," Uryuu insisted.

Ichigo snorted. "You think you can relay orders in that state?"

At a gesture to his thoroughly confined circumstances, Uryuu took a second to wriggle against the ropes and test their strength. They checked out. After nagging Ichigo for the better part of the afternoon, he had finally conceded and followed Uryuu's instructions to the letter. He was never getting out of these on his own. At least not in human form. That didn't mean they couldn't take extra precautions.

"Try to see it from my perspective. An anchor would go a long way toward—"

Rushing forth to grab him by the binds, Ichigo reeled him in close and said, "Try to see it from _my_ perspective. For the hundredth time, I didn't want to do this to you. I hate it. I am sick of discussing it. So, if you don't shut up, I will 'anchor' your mouth shut for you with your own scarf. Understand?"

In the wake of such an unusually aggressive tirade, he swallowed and humbly nodded. "I won't bring it up again."

" _Thank you_ ," snapped the agitated hunter.

They went back to their waiting game as the sun began to set at a snail's pace. It had been a very long day despite waking late in the morning. Uryuu was becoming more restless by the moment as the white rays turned golden, orange, and then red. He kept wondering whether he could somehow knock himself unconscious once he felt the Change take hold. Perched on the edge of the bed and swaddled in itchy rope, he just wanted it to be over. Let him turn and be dispatched or grant him a clean bill of health. The waiting was worse than the outcome.

At first glance, Ichigo seemed the picture of perfect calm. He sat whittling a block of soft wood by the window. His hands were steady and his breathing was even. Only, he kept looking out at the swirling sunset and then at Uryuu. The hunter was intentionally putting on a brave front for both their sakes. It wasn't quite working. The small knife he held slipped and pricked his thumb once. A second time minutes later. Ichigo abandoned the wood and tool on the table to stare at his dripping fingertip instead.

Not a word was exchanged for the better part of an hour. Not until well after the sun was gone, leaving naught but a faint glow to the blanketed woods. A glow that waxed and waned with the passing of capricious clouds past a full moon.

"Take me outside," Uryuu said. "Under the moon. We have to be sure."

Ichigo rose with a screech of his chair and hefted him through the door out to the yard in front of the cabin. They both looked up to the sky and waited for the wind to whip the clouds aside. The moon was flawlessly symmetrical, leaving no doubt it was truly full. It fell upon them with a pure beam of light that outshone many of the stars from their view. Uryuu kept his eyes on it in spite of Ichigo's locking curiously onto his face.

"Do you feel anything?"

"No. Nothing."

"I knew it," murmured Ichigo in the soft tone of prayer, "Knew you would be all right."

They lingered there for some time. Ichigo seemed content to let him stay as long as he needed, until Uryuu started to shiver under all those accursed ropes. The hunter lugged him back inside regardless of his captive's objections. Depositing him onto the mattress, Ichigo started to untie him without preamble.

"What are you—? Leave them! There may be a delay we haven't heard about. I could still turn in the middle of the night!"

"You won't."

"Ichigo, I mean it—"

He shoved Uryuu backward and pinned him to the bed. The meeting of their eyes stole the very breath from his lungs. Ichigo leaned in and brushed dark hair from his face, sliding a palm along the curve of Uryuu's cheek. There was such bittersweet emotion in Ichigo's expression that he didn't dare speak and break the spell.

"You can't be a werewolf, Uryuu, because I couldn't bear it if you were."

Leaving that to sink in, Ichigo eased back to finish removing the ropes. Uryuu was left staring up at nothing as his heart raced and his stomach fluttered. He knew the hunter didn't mean it _that_ way but it was still wonderful to hear. Of course Ichigo would want the time and effort he put into saving Uryuu's life to amount to more than a few extra weeks. Rescuing people from those demons was his calling, and each person rescued was another precious triumph.

Uryuu shrugged off the loosened binds and said, "I suppose this means…I can return home tomorrow morning."

Although his motions marginally slowed, Ichigo did not stop looping the rope into a tidy coil for storage. He didn't even glance in Uryuu's direction. His initial reaction was a vaguely acknowledging hum. Several seconds later, he eventually responded.

"I should move on to the next town soon, search out another wolf to vanquish."

The notion spiked his pulse all over again. Ichigo hadn't lived there very long. He never lived anywhere very long. When he left, Uryuu would likely never see him again. Perhaps it was for the best.

* * *

He told himself the same again the next morning as he was packing up his meager supplies and preparing to leave. Faced with the dilemma of either returning home never to see Ichigo again, or volunteering to become his hunting partner in order to secretly long for him, Uryuu had chosen the path less painful. It would take months, maybe years, but he could forget about the man eventually. Better that he play the dutiful son and stay with his family than indulge a cruel fixation.

Ichigo held up the bow in wordless offering. Uryuu tentatively accepted it.

"Are you sure?"

"I made it for you. Use it well."

"I will. Thank you."

Walking to the door, Uryuu adjusted the strap of his messenger bag more out of nervousness than discomfort. He was grateful to be alive and to see his parents when he had been expecting neither. The trade-off, however, was that he had to say goodbye to Ichigo forever. Uryuu pulled the door open and stepped out onto the porch. Behind him, Ichigo hovered in the open frame and watched him with a solemn disposition. Though it seemed as if he had volumes to share behind those burning eyes, he spoke only three words.

"Be safe, Uryuu."

As he took a breath to return the sentiment, something began to stir inside him. Something that had nothing to do with werewolves or illness or fear. No, this was composed of hope and yearning and the sweetest tinge of regret. He looked at Ichigo and knew for absolute certain that he would never love anyone the same way again. The realization simultaneously sliced and soothed. It pushed him forward and gave him the courage to take one last thing for himself, a prized token to claim as his own.

Uryuu kissed the hunter who had saved him, the man who was so kind to him, and the friend he had come to love.

Then the moment passed and he withdrew, cheeks hot with embarrassment. He didn't dare glance at Ichigo but swiftly turned away as he stammered an apology.

"I-I am sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Oh, no way," Ichigo began, "You don't get to take it back now."

Before he could ask what that meant, Uryuu was tugged back toward the cabin and into the hunter's arms, where he was kissed in return. Except Ichigo didn't stop after a brief peck. In fact, he didn't stop at all. Not until Uryuu broke free a dizzying chunk of time later. And if he thought there was a flicker of fire in Ichigo's eyes before, they were properly ablaze now. He tried to duck in for another round but Uryuu evaded for the sake of posing an essential question.

"Please tell me you are not doing this out of pity, or some strange sense of honor?"

Ichigo laughed, but there was a dash of frustration layered within it.

"No, you fool. I am doing this because I love you. I would have kissed you a hundred times over by now if not for your mixed signals. As well as the fact that if you felt the same for me but became a werewolf, I…"

"You were never going to kill me, were you?"

A wry smirk was all the answer Uryuu needed. Knowing this bleeding-heart idiot, Ichigo would have let himself be eaten rather than do what had to be done. It was equally maddening and endearing.

"If it is any consolation, I wouldn't have let you attack anyone else."

"I don't care about 'anyone else', _you_ were the one I couldn't stand to hurt! Why do you think I forced you to tie me up?"

Not missing a beat, Ichigo retorted, "Why do you think I refused? I couldn't let myself believe for one instant that you might turn into one of those monsters!"

"And I didn't want my nightmares to come true!"

"Your nightmares…were about me?" Uryuu didn't confirm it in words but his expression gave him away. Ichigo pulled him into a consoling embrace, whispering, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Hugging him back, Uryuu shut his eyes and sighed. None of it mattered anymore. The important thing was they had made it through everything together and maybe…

"Can I come with you?" Ichigo froze and Uryuu cautiously continued, "I could be useful; you have seen me hunt with the bow. Plus, my experience with herbs and healing techniques would—"

The hunter was kissing him again. All over his face this time, like he couldn't decide which spot needed the most affection. Uryuu smiled, then laughed and kissed him back. Ichigo was grinning when they separated. It was the happiest Uryuu had ever seen him. His chest swelled to think he could keep making Ichigo happy, keep growing closer, and keep loving him without shame or regret. He didn't care how dangerous it was or how his parents would react. It had probably been too late to go back from the moment they met.

"As much as I want to keep you safe, I can't bring myself to say 'no'. Are you sure this is what you want, Uryuu?"

"Does a werewolf turn on a full moon?"

THE END


	7. Scholar and the Beast Pt1

**The Scholar and the Beast**

Part 1

* * *

Once upon a time, there lived a handsome prince with his loving family in a magnificent castle amid wondrous woods. For the first fifteen years of his life, all was well and good as could be. Then one harsh winter both of his younger sisters, princesses beloved by all who met them, died of pneumonia. The following year his father, the king, was killed in battle defending the royal caravan from a band of marauders. Finally, when he was only seventeen his mother passed due to profound heartbreak, which none of the kingdom's healers could cure.

Prince Ichigo was alone. The heartbreak of losing his entire family in such a short period devastated him. He began to withdraw from everyone around him and none of the servants, noblemen, or citizens could assuage the pain he endured each day. Concerned for his delicate state of mind some of the prince's cortege, who had also served faithfully under the late king and queen, decided a wife might cheer him up. Dozens of eligible maidens were paraded before Ichigo but their wiles held no sway over him. Until a certain woman showed up unbidden to the castle and caught his eye.

Lady Riruka was beautiful and charming with hair as red as rubies and dazzling eyes of the same hue. All the men in the castle were smitten with her but she favored only the prince. Ichigo was intrigued by her enigmatic nature but even that could not persuade him to fall for her. A full year passed and the prince's regard for Riruka was still far from smoldering. Yet on his eighteenth birthday, the day he was to be officially crowned king, she sweetly proposed.

Ichigo politely declined.

Flying into a fit of wild rage, the Dark Fairy concealed behind an innocent pretense suddenly emerged. Everyone in the castle was murdered as her power was gruesomely exhibited in flashes of macabre crimson light, pungent liquid life coating every surface to match the whirling strands of her long hair. Everyone save the prince. Ichigo was left wholly unharmed so he could watch the massacre he had instigated by spurning the temptress' love. Instead of taking his life, she took his happy future, transforming the prince into a horrendous beast the very sight of which could stop a brave man's heart in abject terror. As anchor for the malevolent enchantment, Riruka bound his spirit to the steel of a glorious greatsword and when that blade began to rust, Ichigo's time in this world would dwindle to an end.

Mockingly, she told the prince that his only chance at redemption, his sole saving grace, would be to find true love. That alone would break the curse and free him from the prison of his own ghastly appearance. But who could ever love one so twisted and depraved with fiendish likeness, both inside and out? Reading the revelation on his ashen face, Riruka cackled with righteous glee and strode victoriously from the bloodstained castle.

* * *

It had been seven years since that auspicious affair and Ichigo still suffered nightmares of all those deaths he had caused. Particularly on such nights that roiled and railed with a fierce thunderstorm's howling fury, reminding him of Riruka's tempestuous rampage. He slammed the northern window of his study shut and felt the freezing breeze die down immediately. Shivering under the black cloak he rarely removed, he thought to stoke the fire but an unusual vision held him in front of the cold glass.

There was a man shambling out of the forest toward his uninviting abode. Couldn't he tell there would be no welcome here? Ichigo scowled as the intruder steadily gained ground to pass through the gate. Although no other shelter could be sought for fathoms around, who would be courageous enough to approach his door? It was well known throughout the land that a devil occupied the ill-fated fortress. Better to face the fell Reaper intact than be rent asunder by the vicious Monster who dwelled within!

An adamant knock came at the front entrance below and thunder rumbled alongside it. The ominous sound resonated through the cavernous halls and echoed in Ichigo's hollow chest. He couldn't recall the last time anyone was crazy or foolish enough to attempt a visit. Yet, this was no social call. That man was in dire need of succor at risk of imminent demise from the sleet pounding down in torrential droves. The storm showed no signs of ceasing anytime soon and he would not relish adding another lost life to his list.

Thus, it was with infinite reluctance that the beast—for that was how he thought of himself now—traversed his vast domain, descended the grand staircase, and lifted the heavy bar from its cradle across the portal. Another knock set the doors whining inward on neglected hinges. Ichigo shrank deeper into the shadows and tugged the hood lower over his head. Gods willing, the visitor would never set eyes on him but precautions had to be taken lest the poor man expire from fright at his very feet.

The beast watched his shivering guest push the doors closed and toss back his cowl. By the faint light of a solitary torch burning across the wide room, he could see it was an older man with frizzy grey hair and a thick mustache. He carried nothing and appeared poorly outfitted for inclement weather. Ichigo could not help but wonder why anyone would be roaming the wilderness so underprepared. His curiosity would not be sated, however, as he harbored no intentions to converse with the traveler at all.

"Hello?" tried the old man. He had a low, steady voice suited for calm instruction and wore the same style of wire-frame spectacles as one of his sisters' former tutors. "Is anyone there? I don't mean to impose but I have come upon a string of bad luck and lost my way, as well as most of my possessions."

The hapless caller limped further into the main hall and Ichigo worried that he had been wounded in addition to everything else. When the old man slipped on a patch of the puddles his sodden clothes were dripping, the beast took an impulsive step forward as though to catch him. But the man did not fall and instead heard the tap of claws upon the tile. Ichigo froze as he was spotted in the corner. The man tentatively advanced toward his timid host.

"Come no closer!" His guest halted on a surprised sip of breath but did not retreat. "Stay through the storm if you must but do not endeavor to look upon me. You will not appreciate what you see."

Considering that for a moment, he replied, "If that is your wish, sir, I will respect it. My name is Souken. May I know yours?"

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had asked his name, much less spoken it.

"…Ichigo."

"Thank you, Ichigo, for granting sanctuary under these calamitous conditions. I would surely have perished upon your doorstep otherwise."

The beast remained reticent in the wake of Souken's graciousness. Part of him was already regretting this idea but a larger part was relieved to safeguard rather than steal a life. With a swish of his cloak, Ichigo nodded for his guest to follow. He gave Souken dry robes to wear, a hot meal to eat, and a room to claim for the night. For every kind deed received, a word of gratitude was offered in return. When his silent host bid him goodnight, the gentleman gave a deferential bow and thanked him once more.

Before he closed the door to let Souken slumber undisturbed, he paused in the frame and inquired, "Your leg…does it require aid?"

"How considerate of you to ask," he praised, gently smiling. "'Tis but an old affliction with permanent consequences. I hope it is not too bold to assume we may be kindred in that regard."

A flare of surprise and anxiety spurred a forceful slam of the bedroom door. Ichigo had been perceived even if he hadn't been seen. The realization did not sit well with him, and he stomped across to the neighboring wing and locked himself in his own chambers. He collapsed to the bed in a fluttering heap of dark fabric, bright hair, and pale flesh. A brooding mood affixed itself in his thoughts and worsened his already suffering psyche.

It was many hours before fatigue outweighed the storm's clamor outside and his tormented musings alike. Ichigo was on the cusp of merciful sleep when a faint noise alerted him to his temporary ward's meddlesome explorations. Leaping from his weary sprawl, he pulled the cloak close about his figure and dashed toward the unguarded vault that housed the royal weapons…and his precious sword.

Souken stood within reach of the irreplaceable blade but his focus was on the longbow held in wrinkled hands. He raised his eyes to peer past the shadows veiling Ichigo's. A frisson of shock-dread- _wrath_ tore into him between one instant and the next. No one could be allowed that close to his sword. _No one_.

"Ah, sorry if I woke you," Souken calmly began. "Hard to sleep with all this racket, isn't it? I thought to take a soothing stroll when I noticed this impressive cache of—"

"Get. _Out_."

His words more closely resembled a guttural growl than anything properly human. The flayed tangle of Ichigo's emotions translated just fine, if his guest's tension was an indication. Souken carefully set down the bow and obligingly walked past the beast to hover in the hall. He didn't seem afraid. Why wasn't he afraid?

"I have transgressed. Please except my humble apology, Ichigo. It was not my goal to cause you any distress."

The sincere sentiment marginally softened his ire. At least enough to keep the violence at bay.

"Stay out of that room!"

"Of course." Souken appraised him and sagely advised, "A cup of tea would do us both a world of good, don't you think?"

Grumbling something vaguely affirmative, the beast played guide to the old man again. Soon they sat in the two high-backed armchairs of his study on either side of the burning hearth sipping steaming tea in silence. The storm continued but the lightning had mostly waned, taking the booming peals of thunder with it. A bleak dawn illuminated shifting clouds regardless of pattering rain. Ichigo stared out the water-dotted window and sighed, thinking he wasn't sure whether or not he was even glad to see another sunrise.

"Let me know when you are ready for breakfast," he mumbled to Souken.

"Thank you."

His mouth twitched into a shallow frown. "You don't have to thank me for every little thing."

"I disagree. 'Tis no small matter, what you have done for me. I owe you a great debt, young man."

Ichigo fidgeted and kept his gaze on his mug. Despite noticing the bone-white, taloned grasp around it, the elder had not shown an ounce of apprehension. His composure was flawless and the beast needed to understand why.

"Are you not scared of me? Can you not detect the demon in your midst?"

The creases of his forehead deepened as his brow rose. "If there is a demon among us, it is in the error of self-condemnation, for I have discerned only compassion in your heart. Though it be buried beneath layers of hurt, it radiates from the core of who you were, who you are, and who you will yet become."

Speech eluded him. Never in his wildest imaginings could he conjure a person with such empathetic acumen. It reminded Ichigo of his father's occasional bursts of keen insight, his mother's bottomless reservoir of patience, and his sisters' candid expressions of affection. A ruthless spike of agony lodged itself in his gut. He missed his family dearly, which was why he hated thinking about them.

"Who I will become?" he scoffed. Souken nodded affirmation. "All I will ever amount to is a pile of bones on this very floor. Were I less of a coward, it would already be so!"

The declaration induced an awkward hush that neither was eager to breach. The traveler set his tea upon the table and leaned forward with utmost gravity.

"Whatever you have done, whatever you may be, it _can_ be transcended. Perhaps I could even lead you along that path."

"You're out of your element, old man. The details of my past would sear your mind with panic. There are just some lines that cannot be uncrossed!"

"There is always a road to redemption. All you lack is the strength to seek it." Insides churning with confliction, the beast grit his teeth against it. The mug shattered in his constricting grip but Souken did not startle. "My grandson is awaiting my arrival, so I cannot stay. But allow me to make a promise, Ichigo, that I will return here and lead you back into the light."

It was too powerful, too important, too tenuous to accept. He ignored Souken's vow entirely. "Your grandson?"

"Yes. His name is Uryuu and I am his only family now. Though he is already a man, I like to think he still needs me sometimes; I'm sure he will be very grateful to you for saving a wayward old geezer beset by brigands on the way home."

"That was how you lost your supplies and ended up here?"

"Indeed. Since sustaining my injury, I have been unable to support the two of us as I could before Uryuu's parents passed. The journey was meant to ensure his security…but luck was not with me this time."

Against better judgment, he was sympathetic to the pair's plight. Souken had lost his fortune to coldblooded thieves just like Ichigo had lost his father. His grandson was an orphan just like him, too. And there was wealth strewn all about the castle that never made a scrap of difference to his happiness, but helping them might.

"Wait here," he told the wizened man as he stood.

He flitted here and there, gathering this and that per his whims. A hefty stack of valuable articles was collected and deposited before Souken for perusal. Fine clothing, rare scrolls, gold coin, and the like. Of course, one of his healthiest horses would be added to the donation for the sake of bearing these gifts and their recipient. Lastly, Ichigo held out the masterwork bow he had found the man examining in the vault. A matching quiver of arrows was already laid on the heap.

Souken touched the bow with an awed gleam in his eye and asked, "How can you think yourself a demon when you bear the virtue of an angel?"

Well, the sharp horns adorning Ichigo's head were pretty convincing.

* * *

Weeks passed and Souken never returned.

Although Ichigo wasn't sure how far away the old man lived, half the continent could have been traversed on horseback by now. It was clear he had changed his mind about the assistance he swore to render. The beast could not even blame him. Who would willingly submit themselves to cohabitation with such a foul housemate? Ichigo didn't even want to live with himself!

In fact, as the days dragged on with no hope on the horizon, he found himself frequently drawn to his sword protected by a tempered glass cabinet in the vault. Sometimes he spent hours staring upon it in solemn contemplation. It was as shiny as it had ever been but he almost wished to detect a speck of rust on its burnished surface. Sometimes the despair became so cloying, so smothering that he pictured himself falling upon its immaculate edge. Even his stubborn resolve not to let Riruka win this last triumph over him was dissolving in the acidic mire of loneliness slowly consuming his heart.

Ichigo opened the cabinet and grazed his fingertips across steel as though caressing a loved one's face. A spiteful sting was his reward, and red dripped tauntingly from the points of his claws. He _loathed_ that color most of all.

" _Hello_?"

Jolting with astonishment, he instinctively tugged his cloak into concealing position and set out to locate the foolish interloper. The main entrance's double doors were thrown wide open, allowing the afternoon sun and a wintry wind unhindered access to the capacious room. There was a man standing in the natural spotlight, dazzling in an outfit of purest white complete with glinting wire-frame spectacles, but it was not Souken. Oh, no. This person was significantly younger and…more pleasing to the eye. Lovely and fair as a lily, but also dark and angular as onyx.

The beast blinked at that rather strange observation and hastily adopted his most formidable façade.

"Leave this place at once!" he roared. The young man twitched and swiveled in his direction but did not flee. "I said _leave_!"

"No."

"What?"

"I said _no_ ," was the assertive repetition. "I've only just arrived and I won't be made to depart so early. Now, come out of the shadows so we can have a civilized discussion."

Marching out to meet him, Ichigo readied a voracious volley in reply but he noticed a familiar object tethered to the man's back. "That's my bow."

"It _was_ your bow. You gave it to my grandfather, remember?"

He stole a short gasp in epiphany. This was Souken's grandson! "Uryuu!?"

"So your memory is intact after all," he commented, smirking at Ichigo's bewilderment. "That should make things easier."

"What are you doing here?"

"For all his wisdom, Souken's shortcoming is that he won't acknowledge his own limitations. His health is not ideal at present and I won't allow him to overexert himself at such a fragile age, especially with winter encroaching. So, I have come to uphold my grandfather's pledge in his stead."

Ichigo gaped in staggering disbelief. Was this guy serious? Did he comprehend the situation he'd poked his nose into? It was bad enough when some elderly sap had volunteered to coax the feral beast from a figurative ledge, never mind someone with their whole life ahead of them! There were better things for a youthful fellow to do than waste time with him. Anything would be preferable to that!

"Nope. No way, not happening! Get out!"

"Say it again, say it a hundred times more if you like but I already told you I'm not leaving. On my pride, I will fulfill Souken's promise or—"

"Or die trying? Because if you don't disappear from my sight _right this second_ , I'll kill you with my bare hands!"

Rather than run screaming Uryuu squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and confidently declared, "No, you won't. My grandfather never would have told me how to find this castle if he considered you a legitimate threat."

"He shouldn't have told you about me at all!"

Blue eyes slipped askance in slight contrition. "Well, he…he didn't want to but I wouldn't stop asking until I heard everything. The hard part was getting him to let me come here in his place."

"What makes you think you're qualified to take his place? You are just a…a pathetic _greenhorn_. Do you even grasp what you're rushing into?"

Offense tightened his features and turned slanted eyes flinty. He took an aggressive step toward Ichigo, who scarcely resisted taking an uncertain step back.

"Firstly, I am not as green as you assume, I just don't look my age. As for qualifications, I was taught by the very same man you met and I am an extremely adept study. I may not share my grandfather's temperament but his knowledge is _my_ knowledge. If any other than he can help you, it's me."

"Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Quite sure," he firmly agreed.

Laden with such unyielding determination, Souken's sole relative was leaving him no choice. This was going to hurt Ichigo more than him, but it had to be done.

The black cloak was discarded in a single rapid action, exposing the beast's repugnant silhouette to the harsh light of day in gory detail. Uryuu's obstinate expression seemed to morph astounded in slow-motion as the shroud drifted to the floor with contrasting elegance to the atrocity it revealed. Naught but a loose pair of threadbare pants intervened.

If the elongated, tapered horns jutting parallel to the ground were not jarring enough, the nightmarish mask they were attached to would suffice. A stark scarlet accent bisected each garish yellow eye, broken only by almond-shaped midnight pools the inverse of typical white. Those dual red streaks carried past the sides of his permanent skull's grimace and trailed to his chest. There they broadened and branched outward like a peculiar sunburst from a disconcerting hole through the center of his sternum. A rough outcropping of short spikes crested the tops of his shoulders. Recurved talons in place of finger and toenails completed the unholy ensemble. His skin was cast in a cold shade of ivory that clashed with the vivid orange of an unruly mane which draped excessively past his waist.

The silence grew into a bulky, oppressive presence between them. Uryuu was trembling where he stood, too petrified to budge. He took a desperate draught of air and let it waver out a few beats later. Ichigo waited for him to recover enough to run, for that was precisely what would happen. None had ever seen the full spectacle but all who had caught a mere glimpse reacted the same way. The beast had nearly soiled himself the first time he'd come across a mirror.

Yet, Uryuu's first feat after witnessing this disgusting vista was not escape. He lifted a shaking hand and glanced warily at Ichigo's face before touching the solid bone of his left horn. It was the beast's turn to gawk because Uryuu was not petrified, he was _fascinated_. His quaking was the result of excitement, not terror. Inquisitive eyes were darting all over Riruka's wretched representation of his inner self, drinking in every eerie facet.

Ichigo was starting to feel a tad objectified. He wasn't some magical _oddity_ but a person, damn it! Still, he couldn't bring himself to be too annoyed since Uryuu's lack of fear was sort of comforting. Maybe the beast wasn't totally irredeemable if even one man could stomach the sight of him.

"Don't," protested Ichigo when his wandering fingers drew too near the sensitive hole above his heart. "It's uncomfortable."

"Sorry." Their gazes locked at close proximity. The beast swallowed and Uryuu licked his lips. "I haven't been entirely honest with you. Part of my motivation in coming here was concern for my grandfather, but also…I would like to study you. As a scholar of all things mystical and mythical, I find your story intriguing. Perhaps I could even determine a way to break the curse."

"There is only one way to break this curse and it's never going to happen."

"True love." At Ichigo's puzzled frown, he explained, "I've done my research, read every book and consulted every expert I could find on the subject of your hex. Why do you think it took me this long to make it here?"

Ignoring his question, the beast decreed, "There's no such thing as 'true love' and even if there were, it's impossible when I resemble something that crawled from the pits of Hades."

"All the more reason to let me discover another method. If I can craft a counterspell, I know a budding sorceress who could cast it. Surely the cost is worth the conclusion!"

Not if the cost was Uryuu's life. The beast hadn't forgotten that everyone around him tended to meet their Maker sooner or later.

"The answer is still 'no'. Listen, I never asked for Souken's help and I'm sure as hell not asking for yours. Just leave me to my misery, will you?"

Disengaging to fetch his shed cloak, Ichigo dolefully pulled it back into place and willed the forthright man to concede. He prayed to whichever gods were listening that Uryuu would be gone when he turned around. He wasn't. If anything, he looked twice as resolved _not_ to put this dreary place in his past.

"At least let me stay for a couple of days while you consider my offer."

"Why should I?"

A flat glare was the initial response. Then he haughtily chided, "You may have no control over your aesthetic, Prince Ichigo, but your manners are another story. Has it occurred to you that I might be tired from the journey? My horse is certainly in no condition to be back on the road without rest."

Mollified against his wishes, the beast nonetheless shot a glare right back at him.

"Fine," he snapped, "Just stay out of my way and don't touch anything. And never call me ' _prince'_ again."

With that, he swept dramatically from the main hall and sequestered himself in the safety of his study for the remainder of the afternoon.

* * *

It had been about a fortnight since the invasion of Souken's headstrong grandson into the derelict citadel and still he would not be banished. Although they mostly kept to their own devices outside of meal times and occasional chance meetings in the halls, the beast was beyond ready to be rid of him. Every day that Uryuu was there intensified his anxiety until he felt trapped, a clumsy bull stuck in the same vicinity as a priceless relic. He could practically hear the man's fragile bones shattering.

Harangued by these chilling contemplations, Ichigo decided he could tolerate the arrangement no longer. His trailing cloak whispered over polished stone and disturbed the mounted row of gleaming candles as he searched for the uninvited guest with every intention to physically toss the man out if necessary. He found Uryuu kneeling before the entry to a banquet hall in the center of the castle that hadn't been opened since the dark fairy had desecrated its walls with countless entrails. Deft hands utilized two slender, silver tools designed to open that which had been sealed.

"What do you think you're doing?" the beast loudly demanded.

"The lock is too rusted to accommodate its key," he coolly reasoned without glancing up from the task, "Short of breaking the handles off, this is the only way to open the door. Unless you can manage a bit of magic?"

"You don't need to open it. Quit trying."

Pausing to tilt his gaze up at the looming figure, Uryuu argued, "You said I could go anywhere but the upstairs study, the vault, and your chambers."

"Well, you can't go in there, either!"

"Why not? Half the castle lies beyond this atrium. Keeping it cordoned off serves no sensible purpose."

"I said you're not allowed, so leave it alone!"

In a show of willful rebellion, he easily completed the task even as he kept staring at Ichigo. A definitive _click_ announced success. Uryuu gracefully rose and placed a palm on the ornate golden handle. Images from that traumatizing night strobed through the beast's unbalanced mind in swift succession. He reacted before he thought, lunging forth with a primal snarl to pin the unsuspecting man to those doors rather than let him open them.

Was this the part where he lived up to his vicious nickname and broke that delicate frame?

Uryuu hit the sturdy, carved wood hard enough to earn a wince. Rather than cry out or beg leniency, he _glowered_ at the beast and shoved with all his might. Ichigo let himself be dislodged. The scholar pointedly straightened his disheveled shirt as he spoke.

"Here is a fine suggestion for an initial step back to humanity: stop throwing fits every time you don't get your way!"

"It was your own fault! I told you not to—"

"Do this?"

Reaching behind his back, Uryuu flicked the handle down and pushed the door ajar in one smooth motion. The beast didn't even have time to register what had happened before his subconscious was urging him to act. They met the plush rug draped just inside the banquet hall entrance in a jumbled knot of shifting limbs. Ichigo couldn't fully comprehend why he was compelled to fight, contain, _subdue_. All he knew was no eyes were ever meant to look upon that tainted room or everything he felt that night might come flooding in to crush him again. He would not survive it a second time.

The scholar was bracketed beneath a horrifying visage but the agitated flush to his face did not drain with dread. Uryuu wrangled an arm free and struck the beast right in his jaw. It stunned him for a couple of seconds, which was long enough to lose the upper hand. Ichigo's breath caught as the bite of a deadly dagger warned at his throat. Amazed yellow eyes clashed with resolute blue.

Dainty lily had given way to tough onyx.

Uryuu sat up slowly, ushering the beast backward with the press of cold metal to warm skin. Ichigo's heart was pounding—mind racing, unease ascending—but not because of the threat. From the periphery, he could see them. Desiccated and forlorn. Layered in a gradient of darkness tinged with a dim golden halo from the hall spilling inside. Brown with age and slowly crumbling at the faintest wisp. The stench had long since dissipated so that only a hint of decay could be detected.

Ichigo scrabbled backward without need of knife's persuasion. His shoulder tapped the solid archway and he cringed as if that scant contact had infected him with the room's ghoulish aura. He paid no heed of Uryuu's reaction to the morbid scene until his strident voice pierced the tomb-like hush.

"What is this? What happened to these people? Why have they been left here to rot?" He was shaking his head, horns haphazardly slicing the air. Yet, the man dared to approach and address him with a calming cadence, "It's all right, Ichigo. It's going to be all right, just tell me what happened."

He looked at Uryuu— _only_ Uryuu—and felt some of the jittery panic abate. The dagger had been sheathed and he folded into a kneel near the beast with a cautiously sympathetic expression. He wanted to understand. Ichigo wanted him to understand.

So, he summoned a shaky voice and began to relate the woeful tale of his current form's origin, the details of which had largely gone unrecorded and uncommunicated. Back when he had retained some hope of a reversal, he'd written to many notable and prestigious personages for aid. Few had responded and none had been useful. Of course, the information he'd shared hadn't been all-inclusive. Of the misery and pain and struggle, he told not a single soul. Even Souken had only heard a bland sample of how deep the beast's torment truly ran.

Ichigo spilled everything then. From his family's deaths to Riruka's failed seduction to the brutal aftermath that had spawned the skeletal remnants surrounding them. He told Uryuu how it felt to watch everyone he knew and cared for torn apart because he had selfishly spurned the wrong woman. How he'd huddled against an overturned table and sobbed as the blood of his beloved subjects dried on his skin. How it had taken him hours just to drag himself from the room and call for help, only to remember they had _all_ been gathered in the banquet hall for the prince's birthday feast and coronation. Even the servants had been present, per his benevolent insistence.

"Afterward, I could never bring myself to come anywhere near this room. Seven years later and it still aches like it happened yesterday…"

Uryuu was quiet for a long time, integrating everything he'd learned. Then he solemnly stated, "They deserve peace and you deserve closure. It is time to lay them to rest. I will help you."

With that, he stood and held out a hand to help Ichigo rise up from the shadows in which he had been cowering from his own past.

* * *

"I need to sleep here tonight," breathed Uryuu with a light flush on his cheeks, "I don't think I can bring myself to leave this room."

The beast's withered heart gave a hard thump at his enraptured expression. "Do whatever you want, I won't stop you. Just don't ask me to fetch your pillow and blanket from the other side of the castle."

He wasn't listening, too busy running reverent fingertips over the aging spines neatly aligned along sturdy wooden shelves. Tens of thousands of books surrounded them from all sides and Uryuu looked as if he intended to caress every single one of them.

Although it had taken them both many hours of unpleasant work over the course of more than a week, Ichigo didn't begrudge clearing out the site of Riruka's mass slaughter. Aside from the miraculous effect on his state of mind, it generated the unexpected result of making Uryuu _very_ happy. The man had said he was a scholar but his enthusiasm upon discovering the royal library was a little absurd. And to think the beast never would have been privy to his guest's awestruck reaction if the banquet hall had remained sealed. That would have been a true shame.

It would've been nice not to dig all those graves, though. Their palms were decorated with an annoying array of calluses for the trouble, but Ichigo was glad to have the task completed at last. To Uryuu's credit, he hadn't complained even once. Conversely, he had used their time together to his advantage and gradually convinced his host to grant an extended keep. Hence why he was still around instead of riding back to his grandfather's house.

"Where is the sorcery section?"

His eyes were bright with childlike eagerness and Ichigo was struck speechless under that endearing gaze. He pointed toward the southeastern quadrant of the labyrinthine layout and led the way, listening to Uryuu ramble about how impressive the library was and how he couldn't wait to tell his grandfather all about it in a long letter.

"We can send it out with the list of supplies I request twice a month. The messenger in my employ should have no problem making an extra stop if she is compensated accordingly."

It was only once his guest stiffened in surprise that Ichigo realized what his offer implied.

"Does that mean I can stay? Will you let me search for a way to break your curse?"

"You can stay…" The start of a little smile spread until Uryuu was abruptly pinned against the bookshelf so fast they were enshrouded by a pocket of displaced dust. "As long as you never let me get this close to you again. Now, show me how swiftly you can draw that dagger."

It was poised to puncture the beast's belly before he finished the command. Easing back as relief was kindled, Ichigo nodded approval of the unusual pact and ignored the look he was given for the odd feint. Uryuu tucked his blade into its leather scabbard and brushed the dust from sullied shoulders as he spoke.

"To be clear, if a cure is to be found, it means enduring a gamut of trial-and-error. It means allowing yourself to be studied even if it's uncomfortable at times. It means civil discourse and cooperation. Are you sure you can tolerate all of that?"

The beast sighed. "Frankly, dying sounds a lot easier. But I'm sure Riruka would find a way to take over the castle and become an evil queen, so…all right. I'll do it."

"Promise not to change your mind and kick me out at the first inconvenience?"

"Ugh, I guess."

"Good. Then I promise I'll do my best not to cause any permanent damage."

" _What_?"

But Uryuu was already turning to inspect the titles and choose a book. He began reading where he stood and refused further participation in their strange conversation. Ichigo sank into one of the chairs bordering a nearby table and grumbled to himself like the king used to do when his son would act similarly. Yet, the longer he watched the man indulge his intellectual interests, the less irritated he felt. Uryuu may have been inflexible and cerebral and stoic, but he really wasn't bad company. Certainly better than no company at all.

Plus, Ichigo enjoyed covertly staring at him from beneath the obscuring hood of his cloak.


	8. Scholar and the Beast Pt2

Part 2

* * *

The world was a pallid smudge composed of frigid flakes outside the window of his study. Though the crescent moon was oppressed by the blizzard's cloud cover, Ichigo had been staring past the glass for so long that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. He could still make out the surrounding ridges and valleys draped in a dense blanket of fresh snow. It had been piling up for hours, such that the forest threatened to disappear altogether.

The beast found it oddly calming. Solemn and private like a hidden pocket of oblivion being built around the castle one miniscule fleck of ice at a time. He pressed a palm to the window and sighed clinging fog against its frosted surface. Alone, but not lonely, which was a novel idea in itself. Not with Uryuu occupying the same silent halls elsewhere in the castle—probably sequestered in the library as he mostly had been since discovering it. He could not abide attempting to dismantle the curse until he was fortified with as much knowledge of the subject as possible. And there was a great deal of knowledge stored in the library.

Ichigo had to subvert the urge to track him down for no reason other than a desire for his company. It was a routine of self-discipline he'd had to sustain over the past couple of months or risk deepening his addiction to the man. An addiction for which he equally blamed his extended solitude and Uryuu himself. Whether it was due to repeated interaction or another unknown motive, he wasn't as cold toward the beast anymore. Neither was he overtly friendly. It was a mix of the two, a balance of the scales that hinted at a tipping point soon to come.

He both dreaded and yearned for it.

A knock at the door drew him back to the present. Ichigo called for his guest to enter and turned to watch him do so. The scholar strode into the room as though he belonged there—an attitude he habitually displayed which had long since lost its annoying properties. He joined the beast by the window at a respectable distance and gazed out at the grounds as he spoke.

"I made something for you. Don't say you don't need it," he sternly preempted as Ichigo took a breath to do just that, "Try it first before declaring it useless."

"What is it?"

Uryuu produced a square of folded fabric from behind his back and held it aloft to unfurl between them. It was a shirt, of sorts, though its style resembled nothing the beast had ever observed. Its tailor assessed Ichigo intently to gauge his opinion of the garment but the rigid mask made that endeavor all but impossible. Only the understated shift of yellow eyes gave a clue to his inner processes.

"Well? I used black cloth to match your usual attire but if you have an alternate color preference, I can accommodate it."

Finally, he replied, "I own shirts, you know."

"Yes, but standard designs don't account for horns and spikes." Figured that out, did he? Sensing condescension, Uryuu goaded, "Unless you're just that fixated on going topless in the dead of winter? It must get _awfully_ breezy."

"I don't need it!"

"Take off your cloak. I'll show you how to wear it."

In spite of Ichigo's glare, he raised his eyebrows in expectation. Sometimes it was a lot easier to let Uryuu do what he wanted, because it seemed like that was how things always turned out sooner or later. The cloak pooled around his ankles but the scholar's initial step forward was blocked by an upraised arm.

"Stop! I told you never to get too close, didn't I? Just tell me how to put it on."

Exasperation weighed on his features as he debated, "Showing you would be much easier, Ichigo. When are you going to quit pretending you're such a danger to be around? Aside from rare bouts of temper, you're as harmless as a fawn."

"You should know better than anyone how dangerous I can be," the beast menacingly returned. Uryuu simply rolled his eyes.

"To what are you referring? That tousle in the banquet hall? I've had more perilous _dreams_ than that."

"I'm _referring_ to those corpses we buried!"

"Taking credit for a dark fairy's dirty work is beneath you. Not a drop of their blood was spilled by your hand."

"But I—"

"Enough. You've made the risks quite clear already. If I choose to accept them, you should not do me the dishonor of negating my decision."

So stated Souken's grandson and the beast found himself at a significant loss for rebuttal as Uryuu closed the distance between them. He draped and arranged the shirt so that Ichigo's horns were circumnavigated and his shoulder spikes were accommodated. The result was a somewhat complicated affair that nevertheless covered his torso and most of his arms. It was soft, comfortable, and warm. His favorite aspect was the fact that it shielded the unsightly gap in his breast better than the cloak.

Uryuu had circled around to stand behind him, making sure the fit was correct from every angle. He was a perfectionist that way. A casual sweep of the beast's obstructive mane had him tensing on instinct. Then Ichigo felt a few gentle tugs that had to be fingers combing through the tangled ends.

"This situation is out of control. Do you have a brush handy?"

"Leave it."

"Is it difficult to reach? Or perhaps the claws get in the way," he murmured more to himself than the beast. "The strands are surprisingly healthy despite obvious neglect."

"I said leave it, Uryuu."

The carding motions ceased and he moved to stand in front of Ichigo. "Doesn't it bother you? I could help you take care of it. A loose braid would keep it from tangling. Or, a trim might be in order. I learned to cut my own hair years ago, so styling yours would be easy."

"Maybe I like it this way."

"Are you going for the 'rugged rogue' look, or 'unkempt hermit'? Because, honestly…"

Ichigo's eyes narrowed as he ignored a swell of self-consciousness. He knew it was a mess but doing anything with his hair reminded him of his mother, who was the only person he ever let cut it for him. Specifically, how dead she was. Uryuu wasn't wrong, however, and he was wearing that expression that said he wasn't liable to back down on the subject. The beast set his jaw and frowned.

"All right, you can cut it," he grumbled and sank into a short-backed chair. "Shears are in the desk drawer."

Uryuu wasted no time retrieving them. He returned to the beast's side and quickly set about taming his mane, correctly intuiting his wavering consent. All the times Masaki had done this very thing tore through his memory from the first snip of scissors. The cheerful lilt of her voice, the soothing swish of her fingers through his hair, and the inspiring echoes of her laughter were resurrected in his mind as if Ichigo's last moment with her were only yesterday. It was unspeakably uncomfortable. He didn't make it two minutes before he was trying to squirm out of the scholar's reach.

"Hold still, this won't take long," calmly insisted Uryuu.

"Stop. I changed my mind."

"It's too late, I've already begun. It will look even worse if we stop now."

"I don't care. Quit cutting!"

"Be reasonab—"

"I said stop!"

The beast lashed out. He couldn't help it. Uryuu was forcing him to remember things that made him want to go back on his word and give up in the worst way. The ache of his family's absence was too much even after all these years. Ichigo's hand shot out to knock the other man's away. The shears went flying, landing on the rug with a dull clatter that did not cover a sharp inhale of pain and surprise from his target.

He The beast whipped around so quickly he almost whacked Uryuu with one of his horns, but he leaned backward at the last instant to evade. Ichigo snatched up his wrist to check for injury, and the scholar let him. There was a red mark across his palm but the skin was unbroken. The beast sighed, dropping Uryuu's arm and his own face into cupped hands. Part of him wanted to apologize; he didn't know where to begin.

"This isn't about your hair, is it?" His voice was far too mild and understanding for Ichigo's liking. He made it worse by adding, "If you're not ready to talk about it…"

"Get out."

A long pause preceded a hushed answer, "Very well."

Measured footfalls led toward the exit. An overwhelming sense of remorse ballooned in the beast's chest. He stood and turned.

"Wait." Uryuu halted in front of the door and met his gaze. "My mother, she always—this was one of our rituals and I just—" Closing his eyes, Ichigo took a breath and somberly declared, "There is no greater agony in this world than losing everyone you ever cared for…knowing you were the cause of it."

In the wake of such a disturbing observation, neither of them was eager to disturb the silence. Uryuu cautiously crossed the room, approaching until the beast had no choice but to open his eyes once more. He wore the same resolute, empathetic expression as that night in the banquet hall. Ichigo hated how much better he felt in light of that look alone, hated the relief Uryuu's next words brought more.

"If you truly believe you were responsible in any way for your loved ones' deaths, you are a fool. Even if you played some incidental role, intent is what matters. Do you think any one of them would lay blame on the person who has suffered the most from their loss?" The beast started to argue but Uryuu reached out to touch his arm in emphasis. "It is time to forgive yourself, Ichigo. You are the only one who hasn't."

Brow pursed in consternation, he could not bring himself to deny the scholar's assertion. Not when he needed so badly to believe it. Yet, he was also not strong enough to accept absolution when he had gotten used to harboring the guilt for so long. It was a comfort in its own right, even if he couldn't comprehend why.

He shrugged off Uryuu's hold and walked away.

The discarded shears were near the hearth, warm from its vibrant blaze. Ichigo moved to reclaim and then offer them as a symbol of truce, watching disappointment shift to hope.

"Continue," he murmured, holding the handle out to Uryuu. "Please."

"Of course."

There was a hint of awe to his tone and features that the beast did not understand. He supposed his behavior must seem strange to any normal person, reacting with violence one moment and forcing courtesy the next. Granted, it had been a long time since Ichigo had reason to worry about his behavior at all. Uryuu was not quite as patient and wise as his grandfather, but he was still a fair step above anyone else the beast had encountered since he'd been cursed. Perhaps the scholar perceived more of Ichigo than he did of himself. It wasn't a comforting notion.

"Do you have to be so nice all the time?" the beast couldn't help complaining as he resumed his former seat.

"You prefer cruelty?" Ichigo scoffed in response. The deliberate clip of scissors played metered counterpoint to Uryuu's simple suggestion, "If you are ashamed of the way you speak and act towards me, change it. Do not expect me to ease your conscience by being belligerent in kind."

"I am not ashamed!" he snapped, bristling instinctively. "You are a guest in _my_ castle. I will speak and act however I choose!"

"As you say."

The dismissive reply was delivered without hesitation or heat. Uryuu didn't even pause in his ministrations. It angered the beast to know he was not being taken seriously. It angered him more that his guest was probably right. Years of disgust and rejection from others had hardened him to the point that kindness was an intolerable concept. It was a weakness, a disadvantage to be exploited by those who would see the fearsome demon exorcised at last.

Still, Ichigo had never truly managed to rid himself of it.

"I promised to cooperate while you searched for a cure. I never promised to be _nice_."

"And I never promised _not_ to be. Senseless malice is not in my nature."

"Sure doesn't stop you from sniping at me all the time," the beast grumbled under his breath. "Why do you have to contradict everything I say?"

"Ah, the truth finally emerges."

Peering suspiciously over his shoulder at Uryuu, he demanded, "What 'truth' is that?"

"His Royal Highness doesn't approve when a lowly subject dares to challenge him." Ichigo's jaw dropped as outrage singed his skin. He took a breath to start yelling but the 'lowly subject' wasn't finished 'challenging him'. "Do you think it's easy for me, dealing with your antagonism each day? Sometimes I want to shout right back at you until my very lungs give out! But where would that get us? How am I to help you if we can't stand the sight of each other?"

Well…he hadn't really thought of it like that. Or he had, but at the same time Ichigo cared less about curing his curse than making sure they didn't become friends. Making sure Uryuu didn't have to get any closer than was absolutely necessary. A stone's throw was already too close!

While the beast was pondering, the scholar was completing his task. True to his word, Uryuu worked swiftly and set the shears back in their drawer ere long. Ichigo watched him rummage around in the desk for something before curiosity urged a question.

"What are you looking for?"

"A hand mirror, so you may approve the final product."

"Don't waste your time," grunted the beast, brushing loose locks from his shoulders, "I got rid of them all after the Transformation."

'Went on a wild rampage bent on total annihilation of every vaguely reflective surface in the castle' was a more truthful way to phrase it. He had even destroyed a few teapots that were too shiny for his liking. A raised eyebrow indicated Uryuu suspected as much without being told.

"Don't you think that was a bit melodramatic? You aren't actually _that_ hideous, you know."

Ichigo almost laughed aloud, but settled for a dark snort and said, "You are the strange one in that regard. I have never met someone so unreasonably fearless! Anyone else would—and has on many occasions—run from the merest glimpse of this frightening form."

Humming in thought, Uryuu paced around the desk to stand beside the beast instead. His attention was not on Ichigo's mask, but on the region of fabric obscuring the hole in his chest. The scholar reached out to gently tug the material lower, exposing the inexplicably bottomless void. He tensed at the subtle intrusion and Uryuu met his bewildered eyes.

"The only thing about your form that frightens me, Ichigo, is this." His fingertips hovered about the edge of that unsettling abyss but did not touch. "A thing that resembles a wound but does not bleed, heal, or fester…Does it cause you pain?"

"Only when someone goes poking around at it like a drunken physician," he groused, though it was half-hearted complaint at best. The beast didn't mind the prognostication as much as he should have, didn't mind Uryuu's flesh grazing his even in this most casual of ways.

"Odd, it almost seems to have shrunk since the first time I saw it…"

Pushing him away at last, he declared, "You're imagining things. Now, leave if you are done. I wish to be alone."

Uryuu's lips pursed into a light frown and his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, I don't. I have read all the relevant tomes in your library and am prepared to begin studying the source itself: you."

"Another night."

"This night shall do perfectly fine."

"I said I don't want to!"

"You have said that from the start. It hasn't kept me from sticking around to see this through."

They glared at each other for a long moment. Until Ichigo sighed and dropped his chin to rest on a palm. Uryuu took that as agreement. He fetched a parchment scroll, quill, and ink for notes before dragging a spare chair over. In the process, he had to kick some strands aside and Ichigo was shocked to see how much of it littered the floor around them.

"How short did you cut it?" asked the beast as he reached up to grasp at his remaining hair, tickling the tops of his shoulders. It hadn't been so short in years!

Unfazed by his accusatory tone, Uryuu unfurled the scroll and dipped the quill into a pot of liquid black as he replied, "I modeled the style after one of your earlier portraits. At least, I assume it was yours, as the canvas had been savagely torn in an obvious fit of pique. Honestly, how am I to know what you used to look like if you vandalize the only reliable vestige of your former self? I suppose I shall just have to guess based on paintings of the late king and queen."

He paused then, and eyed Ichigo speculatively. Wary of giving offense, no doubt. And his insides gave a frantic toss at the thought of his parents' portrayal yet adorning the walls of corridors through which he had not elected to venture in some time, but he could not blame Uryuu for that. Even had Riruka never influenced his life the way she did, the devastation of their deaths would likely have set him on the same path of isolation and misery eventually. No degree of recovered good looks or social charm could assuage that.

"What if I no longer wish to be cured?"

The scholar did not respond promptly. His perceptive gaze weighed heavily on Ichigo, though he did not dare meet it directly. The silence swelled between them. Finally, Uryuu set the scroll and quill aside.

"My mother died when I was only nine years old." Ichigo's focus snapped to his face at that. "It was a slow death, an insidious sickness, and I remember thinking each day that she would start to recover soon. That everything would go right back to normal if I could only be patient. Even long after she was buried, I would dream of somehow waking to a world where she was with me again. Because of those dreams, I felt I lost her many times over. Do you still dream of your parents, Ichigo? Your sisters? The advisors and servants you grew up knowing?"

" _Yes_ ," he rasped. It was all he could muster.

"My father was killed when I was fifteen, and I did not dream of his miraculous return. I had discarded that grain of hope that the world could seem as bright as it had when I was a child. My parents were not coming back and I could never be whole without them. If not for Grandfather, I…" Uryuu looked down for several strained breaths. When he finally raised them, his eyes were glossy with emotion. "He taught me that life is full of suffering and pain, but it can also be filled with wonder and joy. It is what you make of it."

"It's too late for platitudes, Uryuu, I—"

"I can't _force_ you to let me help bring joy back into your world. I can't rekindle the hope you've lost. I can't even promise the result will be worth the effort. All I can do is remain here with you, and try my very best to pierce the shadows of your past so that you may see the shining _future_ that awaits you."

The beast was struck speechless. Uryuu's determination to save him was unfathomable. After all, Ichigo had done more than his due diligence to be unpleasant company. This went well beyond fulfilling the impulsive promise of a grateful old man. Any average person could have given up long ago and left with a clean conscience. Neither was pure fascination reason enough to stay. The only explanation was that the scholar _cared_ for him to some degree. An equally terrifying and tantalizing notion.

How could he turn Uryuu away after hearing all that?

"Fine," he huffed, diverting his attention to picking at a loose thread in his trousers. "Waste your time if you want, but don't expect me to be happy about it."

Yet, from the corner of his eye Ichigo thought he saw a smile, and he could not say he was unhappy about it.

* * *

The beast roared up at the dingy evening sky, feeling his entire body vibrate with fury and frustration. A flock of startled larks launched from the surrounding trees, shaking snow clumps to the ground in an erratic patter. The twilit woods resonated with distorted echoes of his ire as he turned to scowl at the castle serving as distant backdrop to his 'characteristic theatrics', as Uryuu would have said, were he there at the moment.

The scholar was still inside that accursed abode, refusing to leave even when his research subject had fled the premises.

It had been a couple of weeks since Uryuu switched from pouring over magical lore to poking at a live embodiment. Ichigo liked to think he had been reasonably accommodating, considering how irritating it was to be analyzed like an alchemical experiment gone intriguingly awry. To be truthful, he did not resent the extra time spent with his guest. It was only once he started insisting Ichigo allow him near the Sword that the situation had soured.

" _It is the only aspect of your enchantment that I have not studied,_ " he'd argued, with that stubborn edge to his voice implying complete confidence of his imminent verbal victory. " _You should have told me about it sooner. It could be the key to breaking the spell!_ "

Bark exploded outward in a splintering shower as a nearby trunk was viciously mauled. Ichigo had not wanted to tell him about the Sword at all. He was instinctually protective of it, even from the one person in all the lands he had come to trust since…No, despite his intentions not even Uryuu could be allowed near the all-important relic. What if his tinkering made things _worse_?

Of course he would refuse to take 'no' as answer. Of course he would push until Ichigo flew into a rage. Of course they would fight so fiercely that the beast had to leave or risk harming the bullheaded fool. He had stomped straight out into the wilderness without his cloak, and hadn't halted until the heavy billows of his agitated breath stopped making such great grey clouds in front of him.

Now the last of the sun's rays were winking out on the horizon as the stars began to twinkle around a crescent moon. With the steady drape of night came a penetrating chill that only thin breeches and one of Uryuu's modified shirts could not stave off. Still, he was too heated to contemplate returning home, where Ichigo knew his guest would not hesitate to start the debate afresh the moment he strode into the main hall.

Better to tramp through the forest until he was too tired and cold for another battle of wills.

That is precisely what Ichigo did for the better part of an hour, scaring all the creatures unfortunate enough to cross his path. Even the wolves loped away from him without so much as a warning _yip_. Radiating a murderous aura as he was, a ravening bear would not have stood a chance.

A bawdy group of humans, however…

The beast froze and scented the air, detecting a campfire in the area. Alongside wood smoke was the aroma of cooked meat and spilled ale. The sound of boisterous voices could be heard through the trees to the near northwest. Brigands. Had to be. So far from town, in a large faction, and this late at night it was the only explanation. It could even be the same band of thieves that had accosted Souken several months ago.

However much Ichigo would have liked to exact a bit of vengeance on the old man's behalf, he was not quite foolish enough to try. In spite of the vile yarns spun by gossiping villagers, he was not in the habit of provoking more fear and odium than necessary. He pivoted on a taloned foot and started back toward the distant keep.

He didn't make it more than a few steps before the rustle of brush alerted him to another's presence. For a moment, the beast hoped it was only Uryuu, come to cajole him into ending this childish tantrum and returning home. It would have been effortless to follow his messy trail, even in the darkness. But the face that slowly emerged under dim moonlight was not familiar, though the expression adorning it was. Horror and hate warred across the grizzled visage of a half-drunken highwayman. He called out to his fellows and soon Ichigo was surrounded, _engulfed_ by their collective repugnance at his very existence. Their astonished whisperings swiftly ascended to aggravated shouts.

"It's the Beast!"

"The legends were true…"

"'Tis even more gruesome than they claimed," the only woman in the crowd hissed. "Look at its horns!"

"Got the devil's glowing eyes, it does."

"Nothin' living's got flesh that pale…Gotta be undead."

"Kill it or it'll eat us alive!"

"On your guard," commanded one who might have been the leader, "It could attack at any moment."

The longer they gawked, the more slinked from camp to investigate the disturbance. Ichigo counted over a dozen, armed and growing more bloodthirsty by the second. He could easily tear through them, he knew, but his stomach rebelled at the thought of so much red staining the serene blanket of snow underfoot. Ichigo began to back away but heard those hovering behind close ranks to bar his escape. Several of them drew blades and nocked arrows from his first twitch of movement.

There was no alternative: he would have to attempt an appeal. "I am not here to hurt anyone. I—"

"The demon speaks!"

A bald man stepped forth and spat on the ground between them. "Malevolent guile, meant to bewilder and bewitch. Pay it no heed."

"Surely it has sought us out as prey," whimpered a young male standing behind the woman. "Come to make a feast of us all?"

"Mercy, Lord, give us strength against this foul abomination!"

"I am no abomination," attested Ichigo, though he scarcely believed it himself, "Nor do I intend to 'feast' on anybody! I happened upon you by accid—"

"Listen to the lies it spouts! How many countless victims has it caught unawares in these woods?"

That seemed to fire them all up to a new level of vindicated aggression. Sneering, the leader brandished a studded cudgel and the others took up arms in kind. A handful of brave individuals crept closer while the rest cheered them forward.

Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Ichigo firmly claimed, "I do not wish to fight. Let me leave and you will never see me again."

"So you can double back in the night, when most of us are asleep?"

"Better to dispose of the threat now than risk its return," stoically agreed a swordsman alarmingly close at Ichigo's left.

The woman smirked and muttered, "Besides, the head of the Beast should fetch a fair bounty at market."

A current of eager murmurs swept around the circle. Nothing like the promise of profit to bolster a bandit's courage.

Ichigo didn't know what to do. He didn't want to slaughter them but he couldn't run and risk being followed home. Relinquishing his life here would be more welcome than endangering Uryuu's there. Yet, whittled down to just the options of massacre or death…Did he even have the right to defend himself against them? Was the life of one Damned worth all of theirs? Beast or no, he knew the answer in his once-pure soul. Ichigo lowered his arms to his sides.

"If it is my head you want, then take it." Met with stunned silence, he goaded, " _Quickly_ , before I decide to drag half of you to Hell with me!"

The stoic swordsman twitched, then gripped the hilt of his weapon tighter. They began closing in with clink of blade and groan of bowstring, footsteps lightly crunching among ice and pine. Their leader was closest, boldly facing him from the front. He raised his cudgel with bloody purpose. Ichigo shut his eyes and held his breath.

An impact resounded and a cry rang out into the night. But it hadn't come from him. Ichigo's eyes flew open in time to watch the leader hit the ground. An arrow was deeply imbedded in his right shoulder and the club was abandoned in lieu of clutching at the weeping wound. A ripple of anxious chatter did not drown out the only voice the beast could never forget.

"Step away from him this instant, all of you!"

Uryuu emerged from generous cover of a healthy evergreen, wielding the bow Ichigo had gifted. His heart sank at the sight of the scholar in this viper's pit even as it soared to see him defending the beast trapped at its center.

"What are you doing?" demanded Ichigo. "Get out of here!"

He gazed evenly at the beast but did not respond. Turning a critical eye upon the assailants, Uryuu tilted his chin in subtle challenge and repeated, "Step back and lower your weapons while this can still be resolved peacefully."

"Peacefully? You _shot me_!" the fallen leader accused through clenched teeth.

"My aim was not without purpose; with the aid of any common healer, there will be no lasting damage."

Spluttering at Uryuu's audacity, he ordered, "Kill him—kill them both!"

"NO!" Ichigo bellowed, moving to block his friend from their reach. "You will not touch him!"

The fervor of stern words and the glint of poised claws gave their enemies pause. Until Uryuu ruined it by moving in front of the beast instead. The scholar shoved him backward, and whereas Ichigo would have been an immovable bastion for anyone else, he reflexively conceded to the physical command. The beginning of an incredulous question didn't make it past his lips because Uryuu was already answering it.

"If it is a bounty you're after, seek it elsewhere. This one has already been claimed and I will not give him up to the likes of a bunch of shabby scavengers such as you."

The woman rose from kneeling at her incapacitated leader's side and glowered at Uryuu. "And who are you to challenge us, _boy_?"

"Someone with a full quiver and a swift draw."

She scoffed at his bravado and signaled to one of their archers. Uryuu merely leaned out of the resulting arrow's trajectory and fired one back so quickly it was unnerving. The target went down with a shriek—an arrow lodged in the exact same spot of the shoulder—but he wasn't finished yet. The second and third shots took out the remaining archers, eliminating any long-range threat and spooking the remainder of the group.

With several men wailing in pain, several more frantically rendering aid, and the rest shifting uneasily, the situation verged on pandemonium. A rogue bearing dual blades began to approach in the chaos but stopped cold to see the sharp sparkle of an arrowhead already pointed his way. The stoic swordsman's eyes widened and he took two paces back, trembling faintly. The youngest member, who was not even armed, turned and fled through the trees.

" _Sorcerer_?" someone gasped.

Uryuu gave a light shrug and replied, "In knowledge, if not in practice."

The woman frowned and glanced between the scholar and his beast, likely strategizing now that triumph was not guaranteed. Despite Uryuu's astounding accuracy, she still seemed more wary of Ichigo. He was a wild card: compliant one moment and feral the next. It didn't help that the stories circulated about him boasted ridiculous feats of power and viciousness. If she had any sense, she would realize that battling both of them with half her cohorts too hurt or terrified to fight was the epitome of folly.

She blinked and her stalwart expression collapsed in defeat. Uryuu did not wait for oral accord, but started edging back the way he had come. The two men flanking them tossed questioning looks at the woman who was apparently their second-in-command. At a shake of her head, they parted to grant their captives freedom unhindered. Her attention immediately returned to their hemorrhaging leader, and Ichigo's settled on his savior as they hurried from the scene.

"What were you thinking, going up against so many just to save me?"

"It wasn't exactly my initial plan," he retorted with a sideways glare. "I was waiting for you to attack so I could help pick them off from the shadows during the distraction. How was I to anticipate your total and unconditional _surrender_?"

The final word was laced with corrosive derision. He may as well have said 'coward' and Ichigo grimaced in earned shame. There was no excuse for what he had done. Uryuu's anger was justified, but so was his.

"Still, you should not have interfered. Even with your skill, that was a lethal gamble to take."

The scholar halted and rounded on him, snarling, "Would you have me watch them gut you instead!? Simply stand by and let you die? After everything that we've—"

He cut himself off, biting his lip and retreating as abruptly as he had approached. With his back to Ichigo, he saw how the man's frame was fraught with tension. Uryuu was even more upset than he deigned to show. And Ichigo was still very cross with him. But in that moment he wanted nothing more than to embrace the scholar and never let him go. His hand reached out, but the sinister image of claws painting a black silhouette across Uryuu's white shirt in the silvery starlight urged him to withdraw.

"I'm sorry, Uryuu," he dejectedly murmured. "I didn't consider—I never meant to—"

"I know that, but…"

"I'm sorry."

He took a calming breath that translated through his whole body and turned to regard Ichigo solemnly. "Promise me you will never surrender like that again?"

The beast understood the subtext without having it spelled out for him. It wasn't a vow he was inclined to offer, but he would do it if Uryuu forgave him. He stared right back into searching eyes as he gave his answer.

"Yes, I promise."

"Then we have no need to discuss it further."

The words were cool but his tone was warm. Soft, almost like a caress—or maybe that was wishful thinking. After all, Ichigo had originally been the romantic type, once upon a happier time. Moonlight suited Uryuu's features very well, he couldn't help noticing. The nip of wintry air summoning a faint flush to his cheeks was very fetching, as well. Then his mouth gave the slightest twist of a reassuring smile and time seemed to slow considerably. Ichigo found himself staring much longer than propriety dictated, suddenly quite keen on memorizing the alluring picture his guest had unwittingly presented.

Eventually, the reverie dissolved and the beast shivered as he was left a little colder without it.

"Thank you," Ichigo belatedly offered, "For saving my life."

 _Again_. He wouldn't say it aloud, but he suspected the sentiment was heard nonetheless.

"Well…I am just glad you're all right," said Uryuu, sounding as if he sincerely meant it. "Let us retire to the hearth in your study, lest we both catch our deaths in this frozen forest."


	9. Scholar and the Beast Pt3

Part 3

* * *

Winter gradually transitioned to early spring and still Uryuu had not discovered the counterspell. Even with the help of his witch friend in the village via the delivery of lengthy correspondence every other week, they were no closer to restoring the former prince to his former glory. Yet, the scholar never lost his determination. If anything, repeated failure seemed to fuel his enthusiasm and ingenuity.

They had been getting along much better after the incident in the forest. Whether that was due to a shift in his guest's attitude or the host's, Ichigo could not have said for certain. All that really mattered was they were talking and interacting more often than bickering and sulking. The beast had finally come to accept that he would most likely not be the cause of Uryuu's untimely demise, and that made things between them incredibly smoother. As a result, he didn't mind as much the notion that his cure remained out of reach for the time being, as long as the scholar remained with _him_.

Then late one evening after indulging in a fine repast and a little too much wine, Ichigo ruined everything.

Uryuu occupied the armchair across from his in the study, a crackling fire in the hearth beside them to ward against night's chill. They both held goblets of mulled wine, more than once refilled, and it warmed them more thoroughly than any blaze could ever do. Ichigo would have shed his cloak, had he not already taken to leaving it in his quarters more often than not. The scholar, on the other hand, had abandoned both his jacket and vest. Further, long sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and the laces of a high collar had been unthreaded to expose his throat and a bit of his chest.

Though it was far from indecent, it was the most the beast had ever seen of Uryuu's bare skin and it was putting strange ideas into his head. He knew he should have excused himself and gone straight to his chambers, but…

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he abruptly told Ichigo, "Although I think I can guess the answer. Do you have any servants in the castle—mundane or magical? Someone to do the cleaning, cooking, groundswork, and so forth?"

"Have you been envisioning indentured elves or enslaved gnomes scurrying about unseen doing the housekeeping?"

Uryuu laughed and Ichigo swallowed hard at the mesmeric sight and sound of it. He shook his head and said, "Well, I have noticed that meals are being made and the laundry at least is getting done. However, I can't imagine such efficient creatures would fail to scrub the entire castle spotless. Majestic though your abode may be, pristine it is not."

The beast couldn't disagree with that. Nodding, he ruefully admitted, "I am the only 'servant' in this keep."

" _How_?" Uryuu abandoned his goblet to the side table and leaned forward in interest. "I have never once caught you preparing food or washing clothing."

"Most of it gets done in the night," he shrugged, then finished the last of his drink in one hearty swig. "I don't sleep much—sometimes not at all—and I find the simple routine of chores to be relaxing."

Concern bled into Uryuu's blithe countenance as he cautioned, "Sleep is very important, Ichigo, even for cursed princes. You should try harder to get proper rest."

He eyed his guest lasciviously, thinking he would sleep much more soundly indeed with the comely scholar sharing his bed. The stray observation was equally shocking and enticing. Ichigo toyed with the stem of his empty goblet for a moment before setting it aside. His gaze locked with Uryuu's as he took a steadying breath.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," began the beast in a low, smooth cadence, "Although I fear it may be obvious to one as perceptive as you."

"What might that be?" he prompted with a playful curve to his lips.

"I find you to be exceedingly pleasant company and…an exceptionally attractive man." The scholar's smile fell away in surprise but Ichigo forged on, "In fact, I would enjoy nothing more than spending the whole night together, and you could see to it yourself that I get all the rest I should…or shouldn't have."

It was subtle, he thought. Subtle enough not to offend but clear enough to convey what he truly wanted from Uryuu— _with_ Uryuu. Ichigo watched his expression carefully, and witnessed the exact moment when it sunk in. The flush of heat and wine left his face, leaving it pale as parchment. His eyes widened and his mouth parted on an inaudible gasp. There and gone, hastily covered by a neutral veneer, but the beast had seen that look enough times to recognize it in a flash. _Horror_. Uryuu was horrified by the proposal as he had never been by Ichigo's appearance alone. So much so that his effortless eloquence was lost in lieu of awkward stammering.

"Something like th-that is…if you are s-suggesting that I…that _we_ could…" He swallowed, sipped a strained breath, and resolutely continued, "No, i-it…it is out of the question."

Uryuu looked sharply away and his flush came back, stronger than ever. Despair warred with insult, and Ichigo settled somewhere in between. He knew better than to lash out, but old habits were so hard to break.

"Don't act as if it is the most appalling offer you have ever heard!"

"I'm not! It's just…well, you didn't have to blindside me with it!"

"So, if I had worked up to it more carefully you would have consented?"

"Of course not, but—"

"Oh, _of course not_ ," Ichigo cried, springing from the chair and throwing up his hands, "It's _out of the question_. Because who could ever deign to lie with such a ghastly monster!?"

Rising in turn, Uryuu snapped, "Do not put words in my mouth!"

"As much time as we've spent together, there is no need for words to let it be known," the beast growled with narrowed eyes. "If you find me so revolting, why not leave? Go back to your grandfather and your witch and your quaint little village!"

"You _know_ why I have stayed despite an unending succession of utter failures to reverse your condition," darkly replied the agitated scholar. "Pretending otherwise is pointless. Just because I won't do _that_ sort of thing does not mean—"

"Hypocrite! Haven't you been pretending from the start? Pretending to help, pretending to care. Pretending you haven't abhorred me from the moment you set eyes on me. You are the same as all the others. _They_ are just honest about it."

Uryuu's features contorted through a series of emotions: disbelief, sadness, anger. His jaw clenched tightly and his eyebrows gathered with all the foreboding of an encroaching thunderstorm. Ichigo knew he had gone too far, that he was going to regret everything he had already said, but he was hurting far too much to stop himself now.

"How can you even think that of me?"

"You claimed as much the day we met, didn't you? That my curse _intrigued_ the brilliant scholar. That you wanted to _study_ the beast of legend. Every nice thing you have said or done since has only been to assure I stick around long enough to let you solve the puzzle!"

For the first few seconds, the sudden sound was more jarring than the action. Then his cheek began to sting where Uryuu had slapped him and his stomach sank through the floor like an anchor into the sea. Ichigo wanted to call out and keep him from storming off but his voice refused to emerge past the guilt welling in his throat.

* * *

That night, the beast was beset by a new brand of nightmare than usual. One in which he zealously violated the vulnerable scholar who had so callously rebuffed him earlier in the evening.

Ichigo wasn't fully himself in the dream. Rather, he was entirely the Beast, body and mind. As such, his limited conscience and tenuous compassion were definitively absent. He had no sense of remorse when he burst into Uryuu's chambers and stalked straight over to the bed. There was no twinge of concern when his guest jerked awake with a startled gasp. He sat up and relaxed only marginally to discern the intruder's identity.

"What is it? What are you doing in my room?"

"You were warned not to stay and yet here you remain. I have grown tired of merely watching and wanting, Uryuu, and now I _will_ have you."

With that he lunged, only to be held at bay by a drawn dagger prudently concealed beneath the pillow. Ichigo gazed hungrily down at the man he was braced above, an extra dash of respect only increasing his desire. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly slid his fingers along Uryuu's arm to clasp around the wrist holding a poised blade. The beast tugged it a little closer toward his own chest and smirked at the alarmed noise its wielder made.

"Have you lost all sense?" he scolded Ichigo. "Will you force me to finish the job you cannot?"

"Go ahead and pierce my heart, if you can bring yourself to do it. Nothing else will stop me from claiming you at last."

Indignation gave way to incredulity, then desperation. The beast's cold smile spread to see his resistance crumbling so swiftly. He brought the dagger closer still, until the point of it touched his bone-white skin. Blue eyes flared as they darted from yellow down to the precarious intersection of metal and flesh.

"Ichigo!"

"Use it!" The harsh order was emphasized by a bead of blood emerging from the barest pressure. Uryuu sucked in a stilted breath and pulled weakly, indecisively at the hilt to keep it from slicing deeper. "…Or toss it aside and let me have my fill."

Ichigo's steady grip left his, and immediately the weapon began shaking between them. The scholar's will was wavering, that much was clear, but even he did not know for sure which action Uryuu would choose. Far from fear, the beast felt exhilaration. One way or another, his suffering would cease. At least for the night, if not for good.

"What manner of choice is this?" Uryuu hissed as a spark of outrage returned, " _Bastard_!"

No reply was offered, only more of that chilling grin. It widened with triumph as Uryuu groaned in resignation and the dagger was reluctantly discarded off the side of the bed, a distinct clatter punctuating the augur of his action. The beast did not hesitate to start shredding his guest's fine clothes, immensely eager to access what they hid. And if the trembling of slender hands hastily spread to the rest of his unveiled figure, Ichigo spared none of his attention to notice it.

The scholar's body was even more appealing than imagined, his skin smooth and warm over firm muscle. Not a single imperfection could be found, and the more he exposed, the more his excitement mounted. The beast was careful not to scratch or bruise and risk ruining the immaculate aesthetic of such a fine form. Nor was he shy about touching wherever he pleased. Uryuu gave neither protest nor encouragement but was betrayed by a kind of instinctive language, a collection of subtle sounds and movements that responded to every move Ichigo made. Whether or not he was aware of it, Uryuu's body was communicating a certain degree of appreciation in the proceedings.

At least until the beast roughly turned him over, unwilling to catch that conflicted gaze for even an instant. He doubled his pace and the meter of their breathing grew to match. Uryuu's fingers clenched in the bedsheets as those quiet little sounds threatened to become impassioned moans—or so he chose to believe as he neared the sphere of transitory bliss. With that promise rushing forth, Ichigo was no longer concerned for his partner's pleasure, if he ever was.

Yet, he was not wholly unaffected when said partner suddenly shuddered and stilled. Ichigo knew what it meant and growled his approval, even as he continued to seek his own fulfillment at risk of Uryuu's discomfort. This was only the beginning, after all. His hunger would never be sated with one tryst alone. The beast had every intention to detain the scholar until the cold hours of the night gave way to morning's warmth once more.

Ichigo had snapped awake the next morning, extremities tingling from the dream's lingering potency. A sensation like itchy ice slithered down his spine, and for the first time he knew what others felt when they gazed upon him. It was beyond unsettled, beyond alarmed, and well beyond perturbed. The dream had left him utterly appalled. What it reflected of his subconscious was intolerable. All the evil Uryuu had been trying to convince him wasn't there, brought to the surface in one enormous wave that almost decimated what remained of his waning hope.

The most deplorable part of it all was…he was still excited.

The groan of strained fabric rose to a shriek as talons rent the blanket knotted in his grasp. Ichigo let the slivers slip through his fingers as he bent forward to make a cage of them against his mask. It should have been contorted in misery and humiliation but it was composed in the same stiff grimace as always. How could he even think of doing such things to Uryuu? _Forcing_ him like that? The notion was so reprehensible that it made his stomach squeeze violently in protest.

Knowing it was wrong with a visceral certainty didn't stop a miniscule part of him from wishing it could have been real.

The beast hated himself for it. To such an extent that he could not bear to leave his chambers for several days. The scholar's occasional curious queries through the door were annoyed, then demanding, and finally pleading. Uryuu was understandably worried for his host's wellbeing. Meanwhile, Ichigo secretly yearned to make a mess of him in the most carnal sense. He couldn't trust himself around his guest anymore, but neither could he bring himself to cast the man out.

Day after day, Ichigo was racked with self-inflicted mental torture. Night after night, he dreamt of subjecting Uryuu to increasingly aggressive acts. By the fifth night, there was no dialogue between them anymore—only physical conversations that began with a shove and ended with the beast snapping awake, blood hot and sweat cool. Each dream left him that much more disgusted and disappointed with himself. Ichigo didn't know how to make them stop. He just wanted them to stop!

On the eighth day of his voluntary exile, the scholar's patience was at an end.

An insistent pounding on the door yanked Ichigo from morose speculation involving his open window and the four-story drop to the courtyard directly below it. He fully intended to ignore Uryuu, as he had been doing since the third day, but a strange clinking drew his attention to the locking mechanism of the polished brass handle. That sneaky bookworm was actually trying to break in! The beast scrambled out of an armchair in the corner to brace against the door.

"Uryuu, I command you to stop what you are doing this instant!" A faint scoff could be heard through the dense wood, along with more delicate tinkering. "I mean it, I don't want to see you right now!"

" _That much you have made perfectly clear_ ," he scathingly retorted from the general area of the knob. " _But you are not my king, and I am not pledged to heed your commands._ "

Ichigo grit his teeth as his claws carved shallow crevices amid fanciful lines already decorating the door. He should have anticipated this from that stubborn idiot. Should have barricaded the portal with heavy furniture. Should have defenestrated himself days ago. Should have—

The lock clicked and the handle turned. The beast latched onto the thing as though Uryuu's life depended on it.

"I said go away! Return to your aging grandfather before he expires without ever seeing your s-stupid face again…"

His tongue tripped over the word 'stupid', as it very nearly formed the word 'perfect' instead. Well, the memory of it seemed perfect to him in his half-delirious state, anyway. Truth be told, everything about Uryuu had seemed perfect from about their second month of cohabitation. But that was exactly why he could not allow himself to sully such a perfect being with his devious inclinations.

" _Ichigo, you haven't eaten in over a week! At least let me bring you a meal? Do that much and I'll leave you alone_."

In spite of the man's controlled cadence, Ichigo detected the lie with ease. He knew all the scholar's expressions—visible or verbal—and he recognized reluctant duplicity when he heard it.

"I'll be fine. I'm a demon, remember? Demons don't need to eat."

A short pause communicated precisely how ludicrous Uryuu found that argument to be. He asked, " _What have I done to offend you so badly that you would cower in your rooms like a frightened rodent?_ "

Bristling with offense, Ichigo returned, "I am _not_ cowering!"

" _If that is the case, show yourself. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to assume you are indeed cowering, O Prestigious_ Demon _."_

He rolled his eyes at Uryuu's poor attempt at manipulation. Ichigo was too tired to go on arguing or holding the door closed, however, and he knew the scholar's mind would not be changed now that he had set it to the task of seeing the beast liberated. Surely he could control himself for a few moments, just long enough to convince Uryuu he wasn't going to keel over anytime soon. Then he could go back to brooding over the declining state of his pitiful existence.

Ichigo released his hold and took a step aside to allow entry. What he did not realize was Uryuu had been gearing up for a powerful push to dislodge him, and did not anticipate his abrupt assent in the slightest. Thus, the door came flying open and Ichigo's arms were suddenly full of the disoriented scholar blinking at him quite sheepishly. They had never been this close before. A dormant portion of the beast's brain stirred at the sight, the scent, and the feel of Uryuu in his hold. It set his pulse racing from one second to the next.

" **Sorry** ," they said simultaneously and hastily parted.

Prodding his skewed spectacles back into place, Uryuu cleared his throat and prompted, "Now, will you tell me what this childishness has been about?"

Too busy marveling at the man's delicate flush of embarrassment—oh, how he loved those!—Ichigo's reply was slow in coming. A reply delayed all the more by the fact that he could not offer the truth and was similarly hesitant to impart falsehood. He went to sit in the chair facing a large window and feigned fixation with the sunset it framed. Uryuu moved to sit on the edge of the bed nearest him, and the beast cringed to see him there after what he had been envisioning of the two of them upon it.

"It doesn't matter. As you can see, I'm fit as I ever have been so you can go about your daily activities free of concern for me."

"Who said I was concerned?" The beast sighed, failing to take the obvious bait. Uryuu immediately switched tactics, "Besides, my daily activities revolve around your supposed fitness, in case you've forgotten. What purpose has a scholar without access to his research?"

"Not my problem."

"It is your _problem_ that brought me here in the first place."

Whipping around to glare, Ichigo grumbled, "No one asked you to come here, in case _you've_ forgotten."

"How could I, when you've made it a point to remind me every single day?"

"Not often enough, apparently, or you would have gone home months ago." They stared each other down in unspoken dispute. Again, the beast sighed and opted to tread the path of least resistance. "Haven't you had enough of this farce, Uryuu? We both know there is no alternate method to break my curse or you would have found it. It's pointless to go on like this."

"No, I refuse to accept that. Even if there really is just the one solution, maybe we could—"

"What? Find someone to fall in love with me? Ha! You are the only person who has proven capable of abiding my presence for any length of time, and look how you reacted at the first sign of romantic interest!"

The scholar dropped his gaze and turned his head in obvious unease. He murmured, "My reaction was unwarranted and I've wanted to apologize. Insult was not my aim. It's just that I've never…Well, what I mean to say is I would have reacted the same way to anyone."

The beast watched him fidget with the loose cuffs at his wrists and assessed his remorse. Would Uryuu still be so lenient if he knew what Ichigo's unconscious mind had been doing to him? He was sincere when he said he saw no reason to continue their little experiment. He was also very weary of wanting something he could never have. At least if Uryuu returned to his village, he would not be traversing the castle's halls as constant instigation of Ichigo's perverse desires. This secret would send him running at last and the dreams would mercifully end.

"It is not you who should be apologizing. I locked myself in here because I feared what I could do to you."

"You can't be serious." His exasperated tone hinted at his spirited follow-up, "How many times have I told you I'm not some frail—"

"I know," interrupted Ichigo, shutting yellow eyes to blue gone sharp with annoyance. "I know you aren't weak or reckless or foolish enough to let something like me kill you. But you _are_ very difficult to resist when I want so much to…And I fear that you are soft-hearted enough to let me."

"Are you implying that you would make overtures without my consent?" The melancholy gleam in his gaze confirmed it. Uryuu shook his head and vehemently denied, "Of course you wouldn't! It simply could not happen. Ichigo, _I trust you_."

The earnest words lodged in his chest, stinging like nettles. He was indeed the lowest creature in all the lands, having coerced this beautiful soul into trusting him. Breaking that faith would be the hardest thing he had ever done.

"I already have—a dozen times over—in dreams. Nightmares." Unwilling to see Uryuu's reaction to his confession, he looked to the dusk-darkening sky and whispered, "I used you. Sometimes even hurt you. Never once did you say 'yes'."

A crushing silence fell upon them as night fell upon the kingdom. Although he did not dare to look, Ichigo vividly imagined the repugnance with which the scholar must have been regarding him. Only once Uryuu began to slowly speak did he chance a glance.

"If it is my forgiveness you seek—"

"No, I know I don't deserve—"

"Then you have it."

Eyes flared and mouth agape, the beast struggled to croak, " _What_?"

"They were just dreams, as you said yourself. I can't blame you for what happens in your sleep."

Even so, any threat of Ichigo's precarious psyche unleashing the brutality held within was more than incentive enough for a parting of ways. Sensing his thoughts, Uryuu pursed his lips in mild disapproval. He settled further back on the mattress, spreading out a bit to take up more of its considerable space. His hands went to the laces at his throat and deftly plucked the knot loose. An apprehensive disquiet gathered around the beast's tightening shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

The shirt was parted widely, exposing everything from Adam's apple to just below the sternum. Uryuu leaned back on an elbow and calmly invited, "Offering to make your dreams a reality."

"Don't say that," the beast sternly ordered.

"Isn't this your heart's desire?"

"It isn't _yours_."

"Why should that matter? This is your castle, is it not? Your dominion, along with everything in it."

"Stop it," Ichigo menacingly ground out.

"Why not take what is rightfully yours?" He removed his glasses and brushed his hair back, adjusting a thigh to widen the welcoming stance of his hips. "If you want it so much—"

"Not like this!" he shouted, feeling his hands quake where they clung to the armrests. Ichigo's breaths came fast and shallow, making his voice hoarse as he repeated, "Not like…this. I can't, Uryuu. I can't do that to you."

"You _won't_ ," was the victorious correction, "And that is a vital distinction."

He was smiling. Ichigo couldn't believe it. Staring at the scholar, one thought steadily grew prominent over a jumbled legion.

"You are totally _insane_ ," he breathlessly told Uryuu. "Playing devil's advocate…literally. Haven't you ever heard the idiom, 'Don't poke a sleeping bear'?"

A huff of mirth was the only response. Gradually, his smile began to fade. He eyed Ichigo thoughtfully for a moment before shifting upright to adopt a sober demeanor.

"You are not the only one who has unusual dreams, you know. It appears that while you were being tormented by yours, I was being soothed by mine."

"What do you mean?"

"Every night this week, I have dreamt of a handsome man coming to my bedroom and…" Pausing awkwardly, Uryuu's flush made a faint comeback but he did not avert his gaze this time. "Well, let it suffice to say his seduction techniques were not lacking."

The last thing Ichigo wanted to hear about was the scholar with another man, real or not. He scowled and bitterly commented, "At least one of us had a nice week."

Uryuu was smiling again, but with an added teasing quirk.

"Yes, I quite enjoyed those dreams. He seemed to intuit everything I needed better than I knew it myself. He was gentle and patient, selfless where it mattered and selfish where it didn't." He bit his lip, briefly immersed in the pleasant memory. Ichigo's scowl deepened even as he felt a responsive stirring low in his stomach. "More important than what he did was what he _said_. Never have I heard such genuine and endearing expressions of affection."

"Maybe you could get your witch to conjure this Prince Charming into existence," the beast archly suggested.

Uryuu laughed and confirmed, "That's my plan."

That was it. The beast couldn't stand this conversation anymore. Not with the way it was making his head ache. He stood and made to leave as he replied, "Then you should go back to your village so you can meet him soon."

"Ichigo, wait!" Hurrying over to intercept at the exit, the scholar held him with a touch to his shoulder. All humor had vanished from his countenance. He said, "The man in the dream who treated me so sweetly was _you_. Or…your true form, perhaps? I can't be sure since you ruined all your portraits, but I've never seen anyone else with that hue of hair."

Speaking of hair, Uryuu's was still swept back from his face and his spectacles sat abandoned on the bed. His shirt was still audaciously parted and the longer Ichigo stared, the brighter his flush became. Eventually realizing his state of disarray, the scholar self-consciously secured the laces back at his throat and gave his mussed locks a couple of smoothing pats.

The beast might have laughed if he weren't still swimming in the revelation that Uryuu had been dreaming of _him_. Sort of. Close enough. It meant nothing if the curse could not be lifted. It meant _everything_ if it could.

* * *

The greatsword's handle felt cold and foreign in his grip. Ichigo hefted it from the glass case and raised the giant blade in a pose fit for melee. Growing up as a future king, he'd had many lessons in swordsmanship and battle tactics, though he'd never had need of the skills. The one time they could have done any good, the prince had been too overwhelmed to utilize them. Not that a common weapon would have ever held up against a supernatural thing like Riruka.

Awkward though the sword felt in his hands, he still remembered how to wield it. Then again, it didn't require much expertise to fall on one's own blade. Ichigo carefully reversed it, setting pommel to floor and point to chest, and felt the edge biting eagerly through cloth to graze his skin. A thin trickle of blood soaked into the front of his shirt—the last one Uryuu had made for him. The fabric had been dyed a royal blue that very nearly matched its tailor's eyes.

It was Ichigo's favorite, but he couldn't boast as much because the scholar was long gone.

About a month ago, they had received a letter from Souken's neighbor warning them of the old man's declining health. The implication had been that Uryuu's grandfather was potentially on his deathbed. Of course he had to travel to the village immediately. There was no question that their quest to annul Ichigo's hex should be put on hold while he went to Souken's side. The beast would have accepted nothing less.

Yet, there he was standing in the weapons vault on the verge of breaking his vow to Uryuu. All because of that damned mirror!

The beast loathed magic of all kinds. Was it any wonder, considering what it had done to his life? But the enchanted mirror once owned by his mother was the only one he could never bring himself to break. It was also the only method he knew to check on his friend in the village and it had already been weeks with no word. Going there himself would incite panic and there was no way to summon a messenger ahead of schedule. Unwilling to wait for his usual courier's visit, Ichigo had resorted to activating the infernal object. A single glimpse would get him through the wait. It had to.

The mirror had swirled with colors that resolved into familiar shapes. It'd shown a simple scene featuring two people in mute discussion, for the silvered glass could not transmute sound as it did images. Souken was nowhere in sight. Instead, he had watched with burgeoning anguish as Uryuu chatted amiably with a pretty young woman. Bearing notable resemblance, her dark hair was neatly pleated and she wore spectacles similar to the scholar's. It was clear they were on quite close terms, if only because they wore matching smiles. She took his hand. Their eyes met and held. She murmured something and—

And Uryuu leaned forward to draw her into an ardent embrace.

A sudden shattering had gone unnoticed as Ichigo felt the last piece of his fractured heart wither into ash. Bits of broken mirror had crunched underfoot on his harried way out of the study. He had gone straight to the vault and tore open the cabinet's latched door, but he hadn't removed it right away. The beast had stared at his own reflection in the steel for hours, desperately trying to convince himself that it hadn't been what it seemed. That Uryuu had not abandoned him to be with that woman. That he would return any day now with a cure. That he'd choose to stay forever and Ichigo would never have to miss him like this again.

Alternatively, he knew he should have been happy for Uryuu. Both of their lives had been characterized by more than enough misery and loss already. If he could find happiness with that woman, who was Ichigo to condemn him for it? Still, if it meant he would be forced to live without the scholar…A swift death was better than enduring decades of the agony he felt at the very idea.

Or so he had decided by the time he finally grasped the handle of his greatsword and took it from its case.

A slight nudge of momentum, that's all it took. The shock of it erased every thought in an instant. The pain was so immense he couldn't even begin to process it for several seconds. In that interim, he felt fluid rise into his throat and a reflexive cough spattered the stone floor in vibrant red. Then it hit him, and Ichigo collapsed to his side with a harsh exhale. He felt the blood leaving him, a numbness spreading upward from his fingertips.

He felt no regret, only a powerful wish that he could have seen Uryuu's face and heard his voice one more time.

As the darkness started closing in, Ichigo almost thought he did hear his friend's voice. Calling out his name. Even though he slipped a little further into the black void swallowing him up, the voice grew louder. Louder still, along with the sound of frantic footsteps. Then the resonant thud of a heavy door carelessly flung ajar.

His eyelids parted sluggishly. The room was blurred and dim in spite of the afternoon sunlight shining through stained glass windows. Painted to mock firelight, they lent a warm amber hue to the granite walls and made the assembled armaments sparkle at intervals. It all had such a dream-like quality that the beast was not terribly astonished when Uryuu's unmistakable form drifted into his view.

Until the apparition reached out and drew the sword from his torso. The resurgence of agony granted clarity to his muddled mind, allowing him to distinguish reality from fantasy. The reality was Uryuu had returned a tad too late, and he was launching an enraged tirade at Ichigo for it.

"—cannot _believe_ you would break your word like this after all I have done to help you! Idiot!" He had ripped off his traveling cloak, still damp from a light rain, and was pressing it firmly against the seeping wound as he continued, "Months of intense research, rigorous testing, and painstaking correspondence utterly wasted…You should have had some faith in me and held on as I'd pled! And I'd figured you to be above indulging such moronic whims…How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to _me_!?"

By the end of it, his wavering voice broke completely. His breaths rasped and his hands shook where they futilely staved off death for a few moments longer. Somehow, Ichigo garnered the energy for a short response.

"Uryuu…'m sorry…"

"NO!" he yelled, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, "You don't get to apologize! I won't forgive you this time, Ichigo. I won't—I _can't_ —You were supposed to wait for me! Why couldn't you just wait for me?"

His words weren't bolstered by wrath anymore, but had attained a mournful lilt. The beast wanted to give him a final gift to make up for the trouble he had caused, so he said the only thing he could think of that might bring some kind of peace.

"Go be happy…with her. Forget me."

Eyes snapping open, the scholar stared down at him in blatant confusion. He started to ask a question but Ichigo was coughing up more blood and struggling to breathe. His eyes slid closed.

Uryuu grabbed the beast's shoulders and shook hard enough to bring him back from the edge of unconsciousness. He groaned but did not complain of the abuse.

"Don't you _dare_ ," he hoarsely commanded, "Don't even think of leaving, do you hear me? Open your eyes, damn it!"

There was a tinge of hysteria to his tone that made Ichigo do just that. He glanced up in time to watch the first tear fall. Another was quick to follow, and another. Uryuu growled half-heartedly as the last of his anger was subverted by sorrow. A plaintive sob was poorly masked by a muttered curse. Astonished by the depth of emotion on display, Ichigo attempted to raise a hand and confirm that he wasn't imagining those tears. He barely managed to lift it from the floor, but it was instantly seized and held with a fierce grip.

"Uryuu…"

Whatever he might have said next was eclipsed by the onset of what Ichigo could only describe as a very uncomfortable feeling emanating from the unnatural hole in his chest. It branched outward, suffusing his entire body in seconds. It hurt in a different way than the mortal wound, but it also purged him of its ache. His skin itched unbearably and grew alarmingly hot. He heard a gasp and worried whatever was happening to him might be affecting Uryuu, as well.

It stopped as quickly as it had begun. Ichigo didn't feel tired and weak anymore. He didn't feel any pain at all. In fact, he hadn't felt so comfortable in many years. His attention turned outward as Uryuu pushed up his ruined shirt to inspect the injury it concealed. His fingers brushed lightly over flesh miraculously made whole. The beast looked to the scholar for explanation, preparing to ask if he had been doused with a healing potion when he wasn't watching. The words fell right out of Ichigo's head as he caught the expression on his face.

Uryuu was smiling. It was watery, but it was there.

Without warning, he pounced on Ichigo and clung tightly to him. The scholar's trembling started to subside. Stunned by this development perhaps more than his narrow escape from death, the beast tentatively lifted his arms to complete the gesture. It was only due to the engrained habit of minding his claws that he realized they weren't there anymore.

Ichigo was smiling, too, because he knew what it must have meant.

The scholar withdrew at length, reluctantly, and helped him to his bare feet. The toes were devoid of talons and had attained a healthy peach hue to match the rest of him. He held up his arms to marvel at their normalcy. A cursory check of his face confirmed a lack of horns and skull's grimace. It had been so long since the Transformation that the memory of his own appearance was fuzzy. Suddenly, he was very upset with himself for destroying every single mirror in the castle.

"I can see why you wrecked your portraits," teased Uryuu with a touch to his cheek, "Not one of them could do these features any justice."

"Are you saying I'm handsome?" Ichigo teased right back. More seriously, he tried, "Are you saying…?"

His favorite flush appeared as the scholar glanced away in discomfiture. The levity of a life saved was squandered by a familiar bitterness. It was ridiculous to think he had a chance with Uryuu now just because he wasn't as outwardly hideous. There was still plenty of ugliness lurking on the inside.

"Ichigo, I've never—"

"It's all right. You don't have to say it. I underst—"

"Will you quit making assumptions and let me finish?" There was only a hint of Uryuu's usual sternness, but it was enough to make him snap his mouth shut and listen obediently. "I have never spared much thought for romance, preferring the company of books to most people. I never expected to develop those kinds of feelings for anyone, much less a _cursed_ _prince_. I can't say with any degree of certainty that my feelings for you equal yours for me. I have never been in love, so I have nothing to compare it to. Besides, our situation is unprecedented to begin with and—"

The prince had heard enough. It was a side-effect of Uryuu's contrary nature, his roundabout way of confessing without having to admit it outright. Ichigo could accept that, but his own method was bound to be much more direct. He pulled the scholar back into his arms and gave him the briefest moment to object before claiming the kiss he had been positive he would never have. Uryuu returned it with enthusiasm, and while the prince had expected shyness, he was delighted to be proven wrong.

When they parted for air some time later, they couldn't help but stare at each other in open wonder because the passion building between them was incendiary, but the sheer emotion filling them up was even more intense.

"Please promise me," Uryuu begged in the scant space separating their mouths, "That you will never, _ever_ put me through anything like this again. In return, I promise never to leave your side."

Ichigo agreed to that pact, readily, and kissed him once more to seal it.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

With tears shed for the sake of true love, Riruka's black hex had been abolished at last. Getting everything else back in order, however, was no paltry feat. There was incredible news to spread, castle staff to hire, and a restored prince to crown as king. Beyond that, there was still much ground to cover before Ichigo's heart could be completely healed. Uryuu was determined to bring him that peace, even if it drove both of them half-mad in the process. Beyond even that, well…suffice it to say they had a dark fairy to hunt down, lest she ever return to muddle their lives a second time.

Uryuu _had_ cracked her curse, as it turned out, which was why he'd been taking so long to return after helping his grandfather through a pernicious illness. He had been in the process of getting his best friend in the village to cast the complex cure over a portable charm when she'd suddenly had a dire vision of the beast's final decision.

In fact, it was only due to Lisa's magical aptitude that the king's life had been saved, and Uryuu was quick to remind him of it on more than one occasion. He was also eager to gripe that Ichigo's rash action had robbed him of the opportunity to use the counterspell he'd worked so hard to create. Ichigo would always emphasize that it was the scholar's hug with Lisa that had pushed him to it in the first place. At which point, Uryuu would scold him for spying when he should have been waiting patiently instead of doubting his intentions.

Round and round they went, impossible to stop once they got started no matter who tried to placate them. Yet, the bickering was comforting in a sense. It reminded them of the months they had spent falling in love, and how they'd both struggled so hard to hold onto each other because that unbreakable bond had been fearlessly forged. It reminded them that no matter the hardships they may have come to face, they could always rely on each other to help see them through.

* * *

 **THE END**


	10. Tale of the Golden God

**Tale of the Golden God**

* * *

Once upon a time in a tiny cottage on the outskirts of a poor village, there lived a guy named Uryuu with his 'sister' Rukia. They weren't actually related—as he liked to remind her whenever she made ridiculous demands—but they had been inseparable for most of their lives. Two decades was a long time to know someone and they were all each other had in the world. Or so it was until Rukia met Renji, the noisy but loyal shepherd two farms over. Over the course of the spring that followed their introduction, they fell madly in love while Uryuu watched in secret envy, for he was convinced the day would never come that such bliss would befall him. He would remain alone, perpetually languishing, while Rukia got married and started a family of her own.

Perhaps that was as it should be, mused Uryuu as he sat upon the wobbly three-legged stool attempting to milk their only cow. Who would ever want to be with a former-hunter turned failed-farmer like him? Ever since the masterwork bow that had been passed down from grandfather to father to him had been broken in a freak carriage crash, Uryuu's occupation had been stripped away from him. He did not know how to craft another bow of such caliber and he certainly could not afford to purchase one in the distant city market. Thus, he had been relegated from expert archer to second-rate milker between one day and the next.

The white cow lowed reproachfully as Uryuu struggled in vain to produce what simply wasn't there. She was getting on in years and this would probably be her last viable season, he knew. What he didn't know was what he and Rukia would do when their last meager source of income dried up. Literally.

He left the poor beast to graze in peace and took the pail of milk into the cottage where Rukia lie sprawled belly-first on the rug beside the fire, scribbling in her journal of the wedding she would soon have. Her stockinged feet were held whimsically aloft behind her, tapping air to the beat of some cheerful song she hummed as she wrote. Uryuu frowned at a gaping hole exposing her big toe and resolved to knit her a new pair…as soon as he could afford to buy the wool. Maybe her fiancé would give him a discount.

"I only managed to get about half the yield as yesterday, which was half that of the day before," he somberly told Rukia, interrupting her tune. "At this rate, we might as well sell her to the butcher before it's too late even for that."

Making a face at the notion, she lamented, "But I've had that cow since I was a girl! She could make it a few more years, you never know."

"Yes, but _we_ won't make it through the summer on a mug of milk a day, much less another winter. I know you will be living with Renji soon and you won't have to fear starvation ever again, but I won't be so lucky. I still have to think of these things."

Rukia closed her journal and rose from the floor to stand before him. Her small hands clasped one of his comfortingly as she regarded him with the gleam of ambition in her eyes.

"You just need a new bow, Uryuu! Then you'll be able to hunt to your heart's content once more."

"We've been over this," he sighed, pulling free of her grip. "Even a bow and quiver of shoddy craftsmanship costs more than what we can spare!"

"So, sell the cow and requisition the weaponsmith."

His eyes widened at the very audacity of such a risk. Shaking his head, Uryuu said, "No, I could never do something that reckless. What if the bow was bad or the woods were barren? What if I couldn't land a single shot? What if—"

"I believe in you."

He fell silent at the sheer confidence of her words. It was a degree of confidence he had not felt in himself for a long time and his heart swelled with gratitude even as his chest constricted with anxiety. This gamble could bring them to ruin…or it could lift them out of the depths of squalor. And Uryuu so dearly wanted her to have a respectable dowry. Graced with a high quality weapon, he could earn that much and more.

"If…if you're sure," he hesitantly acquiesced.

"I'll go say goodbye and you can take her straight into town."

* * *

So, it was that Uryuu found himself plodding along the old dirt road with a slovenly bovine in tow that same afternoon. Along the route into the village, he happened upon a striking stranger donned in a crisp white and green-striped hat shading his features from view. Their eyes met across opposing paths and Uryuu gave a polite nod that was courteously returned.

"Good afternoon," trilled the stranger, "What a fine animal you have there!"

Drawing to a stop as the other man had, Uryuu woefully returned, "Thank you, but appearances may be deceiving. She doesn't produce milk as she used to, and I have no choice but to lead her to a gruesome demise after many good years of service."

"Oh, that is a sad tale, indeed. Though, not as sad as I suspect yours may be." The stranger thoughtfully appraised him before continuing, "My name is Kisuke. I have something that could help if you would be willing to make a trade."

Uryuu frowned dubiously but stepped forward in interest to see what could possibly be so helpful. Scrounging around in a pouch tied to his belt, Kisuke raised an arm and uncurled his fist to reveal a palm full of simple beans. They seemed quite ordinary and not nearly worth even the modest price of an aging cow.

"In spite of my current errand, I am no farmer, sir. Even if those beans were guaranteed to grow a bountiful crop, I am the wrong customer for the bargain."

"These are no ordinary legumes, I assure you. They will lead you to magnificent vistas never before dreamed! I created them myself, and I would not think to part with them but for sympathy of your plight, dear boy."

Pride twinging, Uryuu snapped, "With respect, you know nothing of my 'plight', nor what might lessen it. Excuse me."

He started forth with a gentle tug to his bored beast's reins but Kisuke stepped in front of him with a follow-up offer.

"How much would you have asked of the butcher for her?"

"I don't know…fifty silver? Though I would be lucky to get forty."

"Then, what if I take the cow and give you the beans plus thirty silver? That would make them just ten silver, _much_ less than their actual worth. Please, I really want you to have them. This will sound absurd, but I get the feeling I designed them specifically for you."

"You're right: that does sound absurd."

"Is that a 'no'?"

Uryuu considered it. Worst-case scenario, he and Rukia were down ten more silver than they would have had otherwise. That money could buy a month of food or a slightly better bow. Or it could buy 'magnificent vistas never before dreamed'. A difficult choice, to be sure. Sensing his wavering decision, Kisuke counted out the silver and brandished it enticingly in his other hand. Uryuu glanced between the two small piles and bit his lip in agonizing confliction.

"All right," he uttered in a tone of ominous finality, "I'll take the deal."

* * *

Rukia was still seething well after dinner.

She had yelled at him on and off for the better part of an hour right after he had gotten home from his much-shortened trip into town. To be fair, Uryuu himself was regretting it after the fact. Chalk it up to Kisuke's charisma or his own gullibility, but buying magical beans seemed akin to utmost idiocy in hindsight. He hadn't even complained when Rukia threw them out the window in a spontaneous gesture punctuating a mighty tantrum.

The sound of her agitated footsteps reached him through the pillow he held over his head to discourage further fury aimed in his direction. It was ruthlessly snatched away and Uryuu braced against the raging onslaught.

"What were you _thinking_?" she demanded for at least the fifth time.

"I don't know!" he cried, pulling the blanket up to take his pillow's place as impromptu shield. "I was thinking…I was thinking that I'm tired of being hungry and cold and exhausted every single day. I was thinking of how nice it would be to remember what it was like not to worry about tomorrow like it could be our last. I was thinking there's no way I'll make it once you're gone."

His voice broke on the last word and Uryuu swallowed against a surge of misery so relentless it threatened to purge all the happiness from his being forever. When the silence dragged on with no rebuttal, he cautiously lowered the blanket to peer up at his looming sister. Rukia's hand was pressed to her mouth, eyes shining with tears she refused to shed. She lowered to sit beside him and combed soothingly through his hair like she knew his mother used to do when he was a child.

"I had no idea you felt that way," she whispered. "It's just like you to worry on your own, but you should have told me."

"I'm sorry, Rukia. I let my emotions overrule good judgment and put us in a stupid bind. I'll fix it, I swear."

Her lip trembled in the wake of his solemn vow. Crawling into bed beside him, she wound her slender arms about his middle and held on tight like she hadn't done since they were little kids. Uryuu hugged her back just as fiercely.

"I won't just abandon you so easily," she sincerely murmured against the threadbare linen of his shirt. "I'll get you firing those lovely arrows again if I have to postpone the wedding 'til next year!"

"I couldn't let you do that."

"You wouldn't have a say in the matter. In fact, maybe I'll match you up with someone so they can protect you in my place. There are plenty of eligible young men around here who would be ecstatic to have a chance with you! I'm sure Renji could recommend a few."

"Rukia…" he weakly scolded, blush visible under the moonlight streaming through the window.

"What? You can't keep it a secret forever, you know. All the girls in the village have figured it out. How many have flung themselves at your feet only to be kindly rejected?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Fine. But don't expect me to stand idly by when you're too chicken to flirt with any of the men!"

Wisely letting the subject drop, Uryuu tilted his head back to stare out at the open rectangle of night sky behind his bed. He used to look out at the wide open landscape and imagine a miracle that could make everything okay again. Now all he saw was darkness.

* * *

Although they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, Rukia was nowhere in sight when he awoke. Considering the cottage was almost entirely composed of one room, that meant she wasn't in it. Uryuu yawned and tilted his head to gauge the time of morning by the angle of sunlight through his window. A wall of green greeted him instead of the vibrant azure he expected. It took him a moment to process the staggering dichotomy of color.

Then he jumped out of bed and ran outside to discover a pillar of vegetation so massive that it couldn't have fit within the confines of his _house_. It was so tall that Uryuu could not perceive the crown of it in the very distant clouds above. A mass of vines spiraling up the sturdy verdant stalk were as thick as his arm, the leaves sprouting from them broader than the largest tome he had ever beheld. It was a great, hulking specimen of botanical triumph rooted in the middle of his backyard where there had been only soil and mulch last night.

The wildest notion assailed him then. Blame it on too much stress or a fanciful mind, but Uryuu knew he had to climb it. He dashed back into the house to get dressed and grab a small collection of supplies. Twin daggers were tucked into either boot to serve as his only method of defense if disaster should strike. The archery gloves he hadn't used in months were slipped into place to protect his hands from the prickly vines.

Right back out the door and up the stalk he went without delay. The exhilaration of rare optimism lent him boundless energy as he steadily paced his way toward the clouds. Even as the minutes accumulated into an hour and his arms began to tire, Uryuu did not lose momentum. Kisuke's tantalizing words emboldened him to continue when he might have paused or even returned to the ground. He could not stop when the promised 'magnificent vista' was within his reach!

So, it was with great weariness and equal excitement that he finally broke through the dense puff of white clouds to view the sky as no one else below had seen it. He was gasping with exertion and joy alike, for the vista was magnificent indeed. The sun was beaming overhead and reflecting majestically from the clouds to project an atmosphere so bright and sparkling that Uryuu suspected he had somehow breached the sacred realm of heaven itself.

This quixotic observation was reinforced as he turned his head to spot a splendorous castle jutting up from what appeared to be solid land stationed above the cloud cover.

Uryuu blinked dumbly for a moment as he willed the apparition to vanish—as it rightly should—but no amount of blinking would clear the anomaly from his vision. He climbed the rest of the way up the stalk and saw that it curved to merge with the strange earth leading toward the castle. Beset by crippling trepidation, he nonetheless stepped foot upon the dirt and found it to be quite solid. Uryuu left the stalk entirely and trembled where he stood, if only for the fact that he _stood_ at all.

Peeking over the side of the jagged terranean edge, he observed the familiar sprawl of his village past a wispy veil of vapor. An unsettled shiver stole over him alongside an epiphany. Whether the castle had been there all along or it traveled with capricious winds, there was another world in the sky that had gone undetected this entire time. What manner of inhabitants must dwell in such a lofty abode?

Suddenly, he was eager to suss out the answer for himself. There and then, as he could not know when the opportunity might arise again. This adventurous flicker of an idea roared into a blaze and Uryuu was marching toward the castle before he willed his legs to take him there.

* * *

It turned out to be much further than he had anticipated, due to the fact that its proportions were on an unfathomable scale compared with any he had seen or heard about. It was so far away that Uryuu had to halt near a clear creek to rest and rehydrate. Eventually, he reached the gate and paled at the sheer size of it towering up as if to scrape the sun from its very zenith. He felt as minuscule as a mouse, and as insignificant to match.

Although a terrible dread seeped into his bones, Uryuu forced himself to carry on. He would not come this far only to give up for fear of the unknown!

Past the gate and across the portcullis he traveled. Through an archway higher than hills he strode. Between the spacious gape of an ajar door he sneaked. The sound of voices and a clamor drew him to a ledge overlooking a courtyard. There were people gathered there, as well as something he could only presume was a Giant. It was a fearsome creature taller than ten men and half as broad at the shoulders. The giant sneered and hollered at the group of humans clustered at his feet.

On careful inspection, Uryuu realized they were viciously battling each other while the giant spurred them on. Was it a makeshift Colosseum complete with gladiators to serve as some twisted form of amusement? One man cried out as blood sprayed from a horrendous gash rent across his torso and the giant whooped with bloodthirsty glee. It gave a hearty stomp and all the people tumbled to the dust from the reverberating impact. Uryuu shrank back from the ledge and the spectacle below, grimly grateful that he had not taken the time to break his fast that morning as a visceral sickness roiled within him.

The urge to flee railed rampant against him. Still, he denied the base instinct and elected to scout the castle a little more for the sake of novel knowledge if nothing else.

Uryuu did not meet any other people or giants on his voyage through the fortress. Not until he poked his head into a certain room, the centerpiece of which was a wide cage containing a single occupant. There was a plaque affixed to the top of the barred structure that boldly proclaimed: 'Golden God'. Creeping nearer to appraise the prisoner, Uryuu instantly deemed the title fitting based on what he could detect.

The man was undeniably gorgeous, particularly in his sweaty and shirtless state incited by a rigorous bout of sparring. Uryuu watched him swing and slice and jab at an armored training dummy with all the zeal of an enraged bull. The sinuous contortions of skilled swordsmanship showcased his impressive musculature quite nicely. Uryuu slowed to a halt several paces from the pen and lingered there, helplessly enraptured by the display.

"Oh…my… _goodness_ ," he absently murmured.

Despite the hush with which it was spoken, the practicing man heard him and whipped around in surprise. The startled intruder twitched and turned to run before the alarm could be raised.

"Hey, don't go!" he urgently implored, "Wait, please!"

The sword was dropped with a clatter as he hurried forward as far as the enclosure would allow. Uryuu held position and warily pivoted to face him. The warrior was still panting heavily from the mock-mêlée, broad chest working to catch his breath. From his warm russet eyes he pushed a shock of short hair the color of which reminded Uryuu of an exotic bird's beguiling plumage. Yet, he wasn't the only one staring and Uryuu grew nervous to note he was also under intense scrutiny by the stranger's searching gaze.

"Why should I wait? So you can call that gargantuan fiend in here to capture me?"

"What? No!" he denied, scowling at the assertion. "Why would I tip off Zaraki when he's the one who put me in here?"

"'Zaraki'? Is that the giant's name?"

"Well, I call him 'Troll' because he hates it, but yeah. He's the bastard who snatched me up and tossed me into this cage, telling me to practice hard so I won't die when it's time for my fight."

"So, those people I saw outside are his captives?" The man nodded and Uryuu gaped in dismay. "How cruel! He's using them for entertainment?"

"It's totally barbaric," he soberly agreed. "You have to get me out of here or I'll suffer the same fate as those poor saps in the courtyard. They're already as good as dead…"

Walking around toward the lock, Uryuu hesitated to pick it as an insidious suspicion dawned on him. The memory of his naïve encounter with Kisuke was painfully fresh in his mind.

"Why are you in here when everyone else is out there? It doesn't seem like you're one of the conscripted combatants. I mean, you even have your own living space set up," argued Uryuu, pointing to the bed roll and other gear making up a small camp. "How long have you been in here? Is Zaraki keeping you as some kind of special pet?"

"All valid questions, but that is a tale I don't have time to tell. Just get me out and I'll explain everything once we're safe."

Again, Uryuu vacillated on the choice. He wasn't sure what manner of ruse this could represent but he wasn't keen to find out the hard way. Normally, he would dive in to lend a hand without thinking twice but that was a huge part of the reason he and Rukia were in such dire straits. That freak carriage crash that lost him his precious bow? Happened during a foolish endeavor to aid an elderly neighbor. If ever Uryuu wanted to improve their situation, he would have to start thinking a bit more selfishly on occasion.

"Why should I put my neck on the line to save yours?"

The man didn't answer right away. He thoroughly assessed Uryuu like his life really did hang in the balance. A marked alteration slowly sidled through his frame and features as tension eased, replaced by something subtly seductive.

"Because I know what you want," he softly claimed, fingers curling sensuously around the bars that held him at bay. "I've seen that look before, if mostly from women. I'm happy to give it to you, in exchange for my freedom."

Uryuu was easing forward against his will, intrigued by the hinted prospect. "And what is it, exactly, that you'd give me?"

"Well, this for a start…"

The golden god reached out to drag him closer and before Uryuu could pull away he was being passionately kissed. Eyes slipping shut, he returned it instinctively and— _Oh, heavens!_ A jolt of pure pleasure sang through his bloodstream from his head to his toes and back again. A low noise left his throat as the man parted his mouth and licked his way inside Uryuu's. His other hand left the bar to push into dark hair for the sake of a steadying grip and a deepened kiss.

Contrarily, Uryuu raised his arms to grip the bars for dear life while wave after wave of delightful sensation swelled and crashed over him. His heart was thundering amid his ribs and his breathing had gone fast and stilted. He felt his skin suffuse with heat and his muscles weaken with contentment. Uryuu wanted nothing more than to slip into the cage and learn what other wonders this golden god had in store for him.

Their lips separated with a reluctant smack. It took a few seconds to open blue eyes and meet those smoldering across from his. With every fiber of his being, Uryuu wanted to shout 'yes'—yes, a thousand times _yes_ —but he couldn't bring himself to use someone in that way. It wasn't right to take advantage of a terrible situation for his own benefit. A small favor was much more reasonable.

"I-I don't need you to give me _that_ ," he shyly stammered, "But I could use your help."

Brow lifting in surprise, the man asked, "How so?"

"My sister—well, she's not really my sister but that's a long story—Rukia has this notion in her head that she can't go through with her marriage until I find someone to, ah, _be_ with me. Perhaps she would relax a little if we could convince her that you and I are, um…"

"Say no more. I will gladly pose as your lover for a ticket out of this place."

"Really? Then prepare to be rescued."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk and he said, "May I know the name of my liberator?"

"Uryuu," he answered, drawing the pair of narrow knives from his boots as he kneeled in front of the oversized lock. "And you are?"

"Ichigo. Also known as the 'Golden God', like the inscription reads. But I really prefer 'Ichigo'."

Shame, wistfully thought Uryuu, the nickname suited him so well. He concentrated on picking the lock as quickly as possible now that he had decided to do so and made quick work of it with the grace of naturally deft hands. A resonant click signaled the spring and he stepped back to tug the door open and let Ichigo stride forth into freedom. His first action as a free man was to pull his savior in for another quick kiss, parting with a murmured word of thanks. Uryuu blushed to his roots but didn't attempt a reply. He merely gestured for them to take their leave before the great escape could be foiled by the giant who had trapped Ichigo there.

After darting back in to don his shirt and strap on the sword, they set a course for the exit. Even rushing as they were, the expedition was not brief and his companion's curiosity swiftly outweighed Uryuu's.

"Okay, I've gotta know," Ichigo abruptly began, "How did you find this place? I thought only Zaraki knew how to get to and from the surface. Can you fly?"

Snorting at the silly imagery, he replied, "Unfortunately, no. You might not believe the method if I described it, but you'll see it soon enough."

"Can you tell me why you broke into the castle?"

"That was an indiscretion borne of desperation, I'm afraid. Another long story that started with a broken bow."

"A bow? Are you an archer?"

"I _was_ an archer, before I lost my weapon and my livelihood along with it."

Ichigo took gentle hold of his wrist and tugged him toward the wrong hallway, saying, "Come on. We need to make a quick stop."

"What? But shouldn't we—?"

"Trust me, it's worth the risk."

Interest piqued, Uryuu allowed himself to be led through an unexplored wing of the citadel. He wondered if this was the part where Ichigo betrayed him. They worked together to push open a colossal oak door and he was prepared to see Zaraki on the other side of it, was ready to hear the giant praise his golden god for the clever feint. But the pair of them were the only signs of life as they ambled into a room littered with all types of mysterious artifacts.

Uryuu relaxed and loosed a silent sigh since his duplicitous apprehensions were groundless. He watched Ichigo cross the room to fetch a beautiful bow and matching quiver of arrows. Handing them over, he offered a friendly smile to go with the gifts. Uryuu examined both and inwardly declared them peerless in craft and material. He had never seen anything so flawlessly resplendent. The thought of being able to utilize them brought a yearning glimmer to his eyes. Raising them to focus on Ichigo, he was too moved to express proper appreciation.

"A-are you sure I should take them? I've never stolen anything before…"

"How do you think Zaraki got all this stuff?" He gestured to the miscellaneous items piled around the area and asked, "Wouldn't you want your bow to go to someone in need, rather than the monster who murdered you?"

"I suppose so."

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention the best part! The quiver is charmed to never run out of arrows and the bow is enchanted to always lead you straight to your intended target. You can try it out now: think of hunting a chicken. Go ahead."

While he fully planned to do no such thing, an image of a chicken flashed through Uryuu's mind at the man's prompt. Instantaneously, he got the urge to walk through a door to their left. Ichigo saw him glance there and went to open it with a forceful shove. The weighty portal swung lazily on its rusting hinges to reveal a cavernous kitchen. In the adjacent corner sat a slatted crate enlivened by the muffled cluck of several roosting hens.

" _Amazing_ ," Uryuu breathed.

"I'm also pretty sure it's unbreakable, so you won't have to worry about losing this one like the last."

It was the most precious present he had ever received. Uryuu struggled to put potent emotions into words but in the end all he could say was a simple, heart-felt, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he graciously replied. Sniffing the air, Ichigo inquired, "Are you hungry? There's a fresh loaf of bread around here somewhere…"

Now that he considered it, yes, Uryuu was famished. Between missing breakfast and lunch, ascending the stalk, and traipsing all over the castle he was lucky not to have fainted from fatigue. Ichigo climbed a set of drawers arrayed like steps and rolled a loaf larger than himself off the counter. He jumped down and tore out a generous chunk, lobbing it to Uryuu before claiming one of his own.

Munching the warm food, they returned to the stockpile in the first room. He set his sights on the exit but Ichigo paused to dig through a silver box so polished it could serve as a mirror.

"What are you looking for?"

"You said you had a sister who's getting hitched, right? Does she like pearls?"

"I doubt either of us has ever laid eyes on genuine jewelry," Uryuu wryly commented. "She loves cute things, though. Do pears count as 'cute'?"

Successful retrieval of a long string of burnished pearls inspired Ichigo to drape them around Uryuu's neck. He made a musing hum and said, "I'd say they're more elegant than cute, but if she looks anything like you they should work very well for her."

Reddening under the odd compliment, Uryuu pulled off the necklace to wrap around an end of his bow for safekeeping. He muttered another word of thanks and led the way back toward the main hall so they could finally put this place in their past. When they made it to the front door, Uryuu paused to ask a serious question.

"Is there no hope for the others? Is there nothing we can do?"

Ichigo frowned and sadly shook his head. "They're already gone."

* * *

They had just leaped across the burbling creek when they heard it. A cacophony like a stampede laced with the roar of a challenging bear echoed throughout the limited landscape. He stumbled in panic but Ichigo was there to lend support.

"What was that?" cried Uryuu.

"The troll. Guess we shouldn't have had that bread after all. We need to _run_."

And run they did, fleeting and fearful as the vast cerulean sky poured down to meet them with every passing step. The cliff affixing Kisuke's extraordinary stalk was just ahead but the giant was close behind. Daring a glance backward, Uryuu's eyes flared to see their pursuer gaining ground much faster than predicted. Zaraki was an avalanche, a tsunami, a hurricane of force and fury aimed directly at them. A perpetual earthquake shook them to their core, harder every second. He could hear the ogre's harried breaths and agitated growls, could see the homicidal glint in a narrowed gaze.

Releasing a desperate grunt, he skidded to a stop and turned to face the giant. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow. Without looking back, he called to Ichigo, "There is a ladder of sorts up ahead. Go now!"

"I'm not leaving you, Uryuu!"

The arrow was shot and it met the mark. Zaraki howled and slowed but did not halt. He pushed the golden god adamantly, repeating, " _Go_ , Ichigo! I will buy you some time."

Uryuu fired again and the giant paused to pluck the arrow from a bleeding eyelid. Ichigo grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the dizzying brink no matter how Uryuu fought to remain as sentinel.

"I said I'm not leaving without you," he testily insisted, "So, get your ass back on those vines before I decide to duel that idiot and buy _you_ some time!"

The expression he wore convinced Uryuu of his tenacity. With an exasperated huff, he relented and shouldered his bow to join Ichigo at the stalk's pinnacle. Side-by-side they descended, swift as they dared. They had barely made any progress at all when Zaraki's ghastly visage appeared, garishly tinted by red-orange rays of the setting sun. The clumsy shift of his bulky figure cast foreboding shadows upon their paling faces as they embraced the tug of gravity in favor of perilous haste.

Not even halfway down, the snap and screech of breaking roots could be heard. The stalk trembled in their grasp at first, then it began to sway dangerously as its tether to the cloud demesne was increasingly weakened by the unprecedented burden of a flailing giant. Obviously, this activity was not Zaraki's strongest suit. The only reason he had not yet caught up to them was because he lacked the necessary finesse to shimmy down the rope of winding flora.

A shower of rocks and silt pelted wicked warning as the tenuous connection was lost. They were falling, so gradually that it seemed surreal. Their gazes met, sharing a similar sentiment of helpless distress. Ichigo scooted over and looped an arm around him to serve as extra anchor. The wind whistled in their ears and the ground surged up to greet them. A swath of bland yellow unfurled beneath like a welcoming blanket. It was the hay field that would soon become their grave.

The giant's shriek of astonishment and anger was suddenly severed as a detonation leveled a decent patch of the forest nearby. The last thing they saw before succumbing to the same fate was Zaraki's blood erupting in all directions to paint the trees in macabre scarlet spurts.

They were flung apart on collision. Uryuu bounced off the springy stalk and hit the earth so hard his vision went white and then black. He couldn't move or breathe for a petrifying stretch of time. Then he coughed and filled his lungs to cough some more. Everything hurt, but that only meant he was still alive.

"Ichigo?" he rasped as soon as he was able.

There was no response and the panic came spiraling back through him. Uryuu forced himself up and searched around. There was green debris everywhere, dust still swirling in the air, and pebbles littered about underfoot. He caught a glimpse of orange and limped over to find Ichigo partially buried beneath a tangle of displaced vines. Uryuu dug him out, calling his name over and over until his eyes eased open.

"Uryuu…I'm all right."

"Oh, thank goodness," he rejoiced, helping the man sit up. "We made it! I can't believe we made it…"

"The troll wasn't so lucky. Did you see—?"

"Yes. It looked like a gory massacre. There's no way he could have survived that, could he?"

"Not a chance. We can go check, if you prefer."

"Maybe tomorrow," Uryuu sagely advised. The sun was dipping below the horizon as they spoke. "For now, we should find the way back to my cottage while there's still a little light left. Can you walk?"

"I think so."

* * *

The cottage was still standing when they arrived at dusk. The tremors of their escapade's end had made a mess of the possessions inside but Uryuu couldn't be bothered to worry about tidying up when he was covered in a layer of grime and aching a fair bit more than he would like. Besides, he was more concerned about his sister's continued absence.

He didn't find Rukia's note until after he and Ichigo had finished taking turns in the bath. It was tucked under a can containing the last of their grain, which he would have emptied this morning under typical circumstances. He took one look at its illustrated margins and sighed. At least it wasn't in code this time. Basically, it stated that Rukia had chosen to spend the night at Renji's due to the strange plant growing in their yard and Uryuu was welcome to join them. All things considered, he couldn't blame her but decided it would be best to stay the night there and discuss everything in the morning.

Reading over his shoulder, Ichigo asked, "Does she always sketch those weird little doodles all over her notes?"

"One of her many virtues," he confirmed. Turning to face his guest, he said, "I guess this means you can use her bed tonight."

"About that…"

Ichigo trailed off uncertainly and Uryuu thought he knew why. Part of him had been expecting this reaction, after all.

"You don't have to say it. It's much worse than you assumed, right? Who would stoop to living in such a cheap hovel? Even to me it seems particularly awful after experiencing the glorious palace you were staying in, gilded cage notwithstanding. Please allow me to apologize for the conditions, and for the fact that I don't have much in the way of food."

"Uryuu, there's no need to apologize."

"That is very noble of you but I couldn't expect anyone to be satisfied in this scenario. It's just that we've been in a bad way for some time now. Honestly, I didn't think this arrangement through when I asked for your assistance with persuading Rukia. That was a ridiculous idea from the start and I formally rescind the request. Also, I completely understand if you want to stay somewhere else. Perhaps with someone who can actually provide basic amenities and—"

His ramblings were cut short by a touch of Ichigo's hand to his arm.

"First, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be. Second, I am still going to help you with your sister. And third, the reason I hesitated was because I wanted to say that I'm hoping you might take me up on my original offer, as well. If you're, uh, open to that kind of thing?"

Uryuu cleared his throat and timidly reiterated, "I already said you don't have to do anything like that for me. Performing a good deed was reward enough, not to mention the spectacular bow."

"Who says I would be doing it solely for your sake? You may be happy with your reward, but I think we both deserve more after the day we've had." He had no valid opposition to that statement and Ichigo took his silence as a positive sign. "Forgive me if I'm out of line, but while we were leaving the castle…I was watching you with desire."

Breaking eye contact when maintaining it grew too embarrassing, Uryuu muttered, "Me, too."

That was all he needed to hear. With a touch to Uryuu's chin, he guided him in for a light kiss. They deepened it within seconds and he was quickly overcome with the same jarring feelings Ichigo had instilled in him that afternoon. Uryuu was starting to think he was just dangerously susceptible to the man's attentions. No one else had ever made him this enthusiastic with a single kiss! Not that he had kissed many people, but that was beside the point.

He eased out of the contact and took Ichigo's hand, leading the way to his bed on the other side of the cottage.

"I'll take this to mean 'yes'," he joked when Uryuu stopped beside it.

"So long as we're clear this is _your_ reward, not mine."

"My reward for what?"

"For…for giving me that bow."

Ichigo's eyebrows rose. "I get a reward for giving you a reward? Listen, I'm really not trying to argue, but—"

"Then shut up and take off your clothes," Uryuu retorted. Rethinking his aggression, he softened it with, "If you still want to sleep with me."

He shrugged out of his shirt and pushed down his trousers, just like that. Ichigo laughed at his astonishment. Peeling back the covers, he got into Uryuu's bed and eyed him expectantly. This was the part where he got naked, as well, and joined the man. But he was a hopelessly nervous novice, afraid of doing something foolish in front of Ichigo. The man could see it all over his face. He pulled Uryuu into bed beside him.

"No need to undress if you don't want to," he said with a sultry grin, "I'll gladly do it for you."

Shifting to brace above him, Ichigo kissed him as he slowly loosened the laces of his shirt and pushed it upward. His lips left Uryuu's to explore bared flesh of chest and stomach. The top was tugged over his head in a dual effort and their eyes met before Ichigo guided his savior's arms to loop around the back of his neck. The next kiss lingered. Just as Uryuu started to relax into it, a hand trailed lower to play with the hem of his pants. He tensed to feel the string drawn from its knot there, too. But a clever caress of Ichigo's tongue against his unleashed a torrent of desire that flooded out his apprehension.

A soft moan interrupted the hush around them. The last layer between them was slid down Uryuu's thighs. He didn't have time to feel self-conscious about his nudity because Ichigo was already reaching south to gently touch him. Their mouths parted in favor of breathing that much harder. His eyes squeezed shut as fingertips trailed along his length. Uryuu couldn't resist the impulse to squirm under the attention.

A call of his name encouraged eyes to open and seek Ichigo, who asked if he was all right. The answer was a mere nod, but it was enough. Uryuu shakily sighed as the man nibbled along his throat and handled him more firmly. He began to think about how this didn't feel like a simple 'reward'. Didn't feel like sex for its own sake. Maybe he was just that naïve but it almost seemed more like careful seduction than selfish lust—not that he would really know the difference.

He spread his thighs in unmistakable invitation and Ichigo groaned as he settled between them. Uryuu's hips knew how to proceed even if he didn't. Ichigo hummed approvingly and mimicked the rhythmic movement in earnest. Their kiss transitioned into a hot, sloppy affair that belied the passion threatening to engulf them. Uryuu could've given in to it like this, but he wanted more. He wanted to get even closer to the golden god and he had a general idea of how that could happen.

Getting Ichigo's attention with a steadying grip at rocking hips, he drew his knees up and said, "Will you…?"

Uryuu couldn't say it. In spite of what they were already doing, it was too embarrassing to vocalize. Luckily, he didn't have to. Ichigo stared at him for an agonizing moment as he considered the enticing request.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he resolutely replied. "I want you to."

Or so he thought until he realized how long it would take to accommodate for such a feat. Uryuu was aching for release by the time he was deemed ready. It made him quite impatient and a little frayed around the edges. Finally, Ichigo was repositioning to lie behind and aligning to ease inside him. Uryuu gasped at the strange sensation even as the fire in his belly expanded outward to warm every inch of his body all at once. Ichigo held on tightly and groaned out his own appreciation of the intricate embrace.

The tide of his breathing went harsh against Uryuu's shoulder. He didn't move right away. When he did, it was very tentative. Testing, or perhaps exercising unnecessary restraint. Ichigo had to be just as desperate as him by now, didn't he? Rather than slow and careful, Uryuu needed urgent and decisive. He was trembling for it, biting his lip and scrabbling at the sheets. The tender treatment made him a tiny bit mad with want.

"Ichigo," he huffed with a tinge of agitation, "Stop being so damned chivalrous and _get on with it_."

Surprised laughter was the immediate response. Then he took Uryuu's advice and threw caution to the wind. He cried out on the first hard thrust— _yes_ , that was exactly what he'd been missing! It was worth the wait, well worth the danger of rescuing Ichigo from the sky castle. It wasn't love but it was the next best thing. At least Uryuu wouldn't die without ever having experienced a lover's touch. Now he could surrender his sister to Renji with no regrets.

Said lover brought his mind back into the moment by tilting his chin to the side for a fierce kiss. From his feverish perspective, it tasted like gratitude and yearning. Uryuu's hand reflexively sought his own insistent arousal but never made it there because Ichigo's beat him to it. Uryuu's brain promptly melted in salacious awe, causing him to thrust backward wildly. A few more tight strokes was all it took to send him spiraling into the most electrifying abyss. Ichigo's breath hitched as Uryuu arched and tensed up around him.

Tumbling in alongside him, Ichigo murmured his name right before the fall. It was a sweet compliment, in a way, and Uryuu hid a smile against the rumpled bedding. Planting a damp smooch to the base of his neck, Ichigo eased out but stayed close. He was nuzzling at Uryuu's hair line and making muted hums of contentment on every other breath. Hands lazily explored the pliant body at their disposal. Ichigo's affectionate actions only served to solidify his suspicion that this wasn't just sex for him, either.

But Uryuu had been known to over-romanticize things on occasion. He turned in the man's hold to face him for a proper kiss. When they separated, Ichigo had something important to say.

"Thank you," he whispered with sincerity shining in his eyes, "For saving my life today."

* * *

All Uryuu could do was kiss him again, thinking he could have said the exact same thing.

"So, let me get this straight," began Rukia with a shrewd expression, "Not only did you climb up that insanely tall stalk that sprouted out of our garden overnight from some mysterious beans a creepy merchant conned you into buying…but you invaded a magical cloud-castle to save this strange guy from a murderous giant staging bloodsport in his backyard? I leave you alone for one day, Uryuu, _one day_ and this is what happens!?"

Sitting beside her on a crate serving as makeshift seat, Renji slowly shook his head in silent judgment. Uryuu sighed and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck.

"I knew you would see it that way."

"What other way is there? How am I supposed to enjoy marital bliss if my foolish brother tries to get himself killed as soon as I walk out the door!?"

"I'll be _fine_ , Rukia," he exasperatedly proclaimed. "The stalk is toppled, and so is the giant."

"What if he had friends?"

"He didn't," Ichigo joined in to inform them. "Well, none that are giants, anyway. Even if Yachiru can get down from that cloud on her own she wouldn't seek revenge. She likes me too much."

Eyebrows raised, Uryuu asked, "Is she how you knew so much about the castle even though you were supposed to be a prisoner?"

"Yep. Yachiru is also the reason I wasn't in yesterday's Battle Royale. Then again, she's the one who told Zaraki to abduct me in the first place, so…tradeoffs."

"Still, this woman won't be happy with Uryuu for stealing you away." Pausing thoughtfully, Rukia mused, "Why _did_ he steal you? Even for him, that seems insanely reckless."

"Because he gave me a bow," was the frantic excuse preempting anything Ichigo had to say on the subject, "An enchanted bow and quiver fit for a king! Perhaps even commissioned by one. Didn't you notice it propped by the door?"

Ichigo glanced sideways at him but didn't contest the half-truth. Well, Uryuu wasn't about to confess that he basically risked his life over a dumb crush! Rukia would never let him live it down. Even without Ichigo betraying him, she stared into their souls as though gleaning the full truth from their matching pink auras alone. It was Renji who called him out for what was really going on.

"So…do you still want the names of interested men in the village or what?"

Uryuu went crimson and started to stammer something—he wasn't sure himself—but Ichigo boldly interjected, "He doesn't need them. Now that I'm here, you don't have to worry about your brother anymore. I'll take care of him."

An awkward hush fell over the quartet. Uryuu quietly cleared his throat, pretending he wasn't blushing over the protective declaration. Rukia grinned and her fiancé snickered.

"I guess this means I'll be staying at Renji's place for a while."

"What!? That's not—"

"We would appreciate the privacy," superseded Ichigo with a friendly smile for her and a wink for Uryuu. "We could use the extra time alone to really get to know each other."

Rukia couldn't stand it anymore. She sprang from her rickety chair and hugged Uryuu with every bit of strength in her petite body. Whispering for only him to hear, she said, "I _knew_ you had a certain glow about you this morning!"

Oh, his blush was not receding anytime soon.

Deeming the exchange complete, he shooed the giddy pair from his cottage without further ado. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he turned to Ichigo and struggled not to fidget where he stood.

"Thank you for telling them that. Rukia was clearly relieved to hear it."

"I didn't say it for their sake, Uryuu."

He chose to gloss right over that and moved on to his next topic, "So, how long do you think you'll be staying?"

"Are you asking me to leave?"

"No, of course not. You can stay as long as you need."

"Actually, my family lives a couple of towns over. I wouldn't put it past my dad to have sold all my stuff during the two months I was gone, but it's not like I have nowhere else to go. Though, I should probably visit soon so they'll know I'm alive…What I'm trying to say is I don't 'need' to stay here at all."

"I see," Uryuu slowly said, but he really didn't.

Sighing at his persistent doubt, Ichigo valiantly attempted to spell it out for him. "If you ask me to leave, I will. But I want to stay here with you. I want to know you better. I want to see where this goes because I can already tell I like you—and not just because last night was amazing. It definitely was, but it's more than that. I can't explain it very well, but I feel like we'd be really good together. Does that make sense?"

It didn't, not entirely, but he was okay with that. A Golden God was watching Uryuu with an endearing warmth in his eyes and for a moment he could let himself dream again. Let himself believe that maybe he wouldn't have to live out the rest of his days alone. Maybe, if he was very lucky, he could even fall in love.

* * *

THE END


	11. Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami Pt1

**Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami**

Part 1

* * *

Branches slashed and stones bruised as an exiled prince fled through the forest bordering the Quincy kingdom. The harsh rasp of his breathing was a turbulent ocean in his ears. Darkness smothered all around, converting familiar scenery into the most terrifying unknown. Swift, steady footfalls followed his frantic pace. A wide-eyed glance behind confirmed deepest fears: his pursuer was closing in and it was only a matter of time before the prince was subjected to that legendary sword.

The same blade that had murdered his father would claim his life, as well.

Gritting his teeth against an acrid surge of panic, Uryuu willed his aching legs to press harder against the sturdy earth beneath his feet. He dodged around a wide trunk and leapt over a rotting log but the footsteps drew nearer. Although his situation seemed impossibly dire, the prince knew he could not give up. There was a wide, rushing river nearby and if he could only reach it there might be a chance. Uryuu could hear its telltale gurgle in the distance, could taste it in the air like salvation tingling on the tip of his tongue.

An arrow embedded into a low-hanging branch right above his head. It was a warning shot, not a miss, and he knew the next would pierce his heart. The prince skidded to a stop. He stood statue-still, panting and trembling with exertion as his eyes slid shut in mournful resignation. It was too late. Uryuu slowly turned to face the assassin and opened his eyes for the last time.

"Haschwalth, wait," he implored as the man shouldered the bow to draw his sword instead. "Please do not do this. I know your belief in my uncle has always been boundless but he has become _insane_."

"Silence."

Haschwalth, the man who had once been the king's most loyal guard, marched forth and struck the prince to the cold ground. A heavy heel was pressed against his sternum to anchor him there. Uryuu clutched the man's boot and heaved with all his might, but he was weak from his midnight flight out of the castle.

"Don't do this!" repeated the prince. "You know this is wrong. I have done nothing to deserve a punishment as severe as execution!"

"You have dared to defy his majesty and that is reason enough."

Though the set of his angelic features was calm, there was a white-hot wrath burning beneath the surface. Haschwalth shifted more weight onto the prince's rib cage and listened to him strain for each shallow breath. He tapped the point of his longsword against Uryuu's chin, forcing it up to expose his throat. The anxious bob of his Adam's apple grazed the wicked edge.

" _Please_ , Haschwalth. You once served my father faithfully, didn't you? I know you regret what you did—what you _had_ to do to him. Do not dishonor him further by killing his only child at the whim of a mad usurper! Your sins may still be forgiven, but you must make the right choice."

The blade bit into his skin and Uryuu faltered under a vicious wave of despair. He would die defenseless and alone at the hands of one he used to respect and admire as an older brother-figure. No one would ever realize the truth of his death, which would likely be spun as an aggrieved suicide over the recent loss of his father, King Ryuuken. All to advance the bloodthirsty ambition of Yhwach, who desired the throne even at the cost of his nephew's life.

He shut his eyes and waited for the darkness to envelop him.

But the fateful blow did not land. Haschwalth removed his crushing foot and sheathed his famed weapon. He stared up at the frowning man in hesitant hope. The prince watched in wonder as he shrugged off his bow and quiver of arrows to toss at Uryuu's side.

" _Run_ ," Haschwalth gravely intoned. "Run as far from here as you can and never return. This is not your home anymore. The crown will never be yours."

Uryuu ran.

He ran until his lungs flamed and his muscles cramped, further into the woods than he had ever ventured before. Night sky churning with ominous black clouds, there were no stars to help guide his escape. Though he eventually slowed to a weary walk, his fine fighting uniform was becoming gradually tattered and stained as the hours passed. Numerous scrapes and scratches began to sting with sweat. His tongue was parched with thirst and his soles ached from constant movement. The insistent burn and rumble of his empty stomach reminded Uryuu that his last paltry meal had been taken shortly after the sun had risen that morning.

Still, he valiantly continued because there was no guarantee that Haschwalth would not change his mind and track the prince down to finish the task. Thunder began to rumble and the leaves trembled at the unrelenting behest of a growing gale all around him. The cool autumn air grew humid with weather's natural warning.

Only once the first drops started to fall did Uryuu seek some type of shelter. He found it in the form of an outcropping beside a craggy hill. The prince sequestered himself in its protective shadow and hugged his knees tightly to his chest. Wind wicked the warmth from his slender form faster than his shivering body could produce it. He watched the lightning fracture the obsidian-swathed landscape and thought of his treacherous uncle, sleeping soundly in the castle he had ruthlessly commandeered.

The storm raged into the small hours of the morning and even after a dim grey dawn arose. More exhausted than ever before, Uryuu could not rest. He was delirious with hunger and thirst and cold, with anger and sorrow and desolation. In spite of struggling so hard to stay alive just last night, he wasn't sure he wanted that anymore. What did he have left to live for? His entire family was gone, his kingdom stolen, his childhood memories sullied with fresh hatred.

Exiled from his homeland, there was nowhere for him to go, no way for him to start anew. The next nearest civilization was separated by days of travel through perilous woods teeming with the even more dangerous and formerly human Hollow. Those hideous, heartless creatures his people endeavored to quell at all costs inhabited this foul place in unimaginable numbers. It was a miracle in itself that Uryuu hadn't come across them so far. Even utilizing the bow Haschwalth had granted, he could not cross the wilderness on one quiver of arrows alone. As adept a marksman as he was, the chances that he would outlast any sizable horde were nominal at best.

Assuming he could beat all odds and survive the forest, the Shinigami residing on the other side of it would slaughter him on sight. The Quincy were renowned for their stubborn and radical politics, particularly regarding the destruction of Hollow. Whatever they had once been, they transformed into monsters who devoured all within their path. They were a scourge upon the earth to be expunged.

According to the Shinigami, however, they were also hapless victims of a brutal curse and could not be blamed for their own savagery. There was even a myth that told of a way to reverse the hex and absolve the Hollow of their voracious inclinations. Thus, the two nations were bitterly opposed to the intolerable methods of the other and had barely managed to refrain from all-out war for many decades. Ironically, the only obstacle keeping them from this noxious path was the vast Hollow-infested forest itself, which loomed paramount between the two adjacent kingdoms.

Uryuu suddenly forced himself to a wobbly stand for fear that he never would again. He meandered between the trees in the general direction of the Shinigami demesne as a steady, light rain trickled down from the endless sweep of dark clouds. The hours passed achingly slowly, a numb blur. By the time he was reconsidering curling up on the sodden ground somewhere, he heard the sounds of a clash up ahead. Following the noises, the prince soon came upon an unexpected sight.

It was a single Shinigami clothed in classic black battle robes and wielding a ridiculously large sword. The man was completely surrounded by screeching Hollow, swiping and nipping just out of range. A bold knock upon Death's door could almost be heard echoing in the swampy clearing. Uryuu was drawing his bow and nocking an arrow before he made the decision. This person may have been his enemy and would likely attack the prince after the Hollow were dealt with, but he could not abide standing by while a man died in front of his eyes.

The incensed Hollow lunged at the Shinigami en masse. Arrows flew and sword sliced. Their deformed bodies collapsed into the mud one-by-one. More poured out from between the trees, drawn to the song of butchery brewing, and their eyes met at last as Uryuu cautiously approached. Recognition of the prince's rival creed registered in the man's startled expression but he did not tactlessly turn his weapon on this would-be ally. Instead, the Shinigami moved to stand back-to-back with him in a clear sign of cooperation.

They fought together against the railing monsters until every last one was felled. Milling uncertainly among the bloody aftermath, Uryuu skirted the worst of the carnage to turn and appraise his fellow survivor. The Shinigami brushed waterlogged orange locks from his eyes and blinked at the bedraggled prince. He knew the frightening picture he must have made after the night he'd suffered, especially because he still held his bow at hand with an arrow ready to fly. Brown eyes dropped to the poised weapon. A muscle in his jaw jumped and his gaze darted back to Uryuu's, assessing.

"Do you intend to kill me after you just helped me?"

The peaceful sentiment took full effect in seconds. The tension in Uryuu's posture eased somewhat as he lowered and then shouldered his bow.

"You're lucky I was passing by."

Frowning with his eyebrows, the man retorted, "I could've taken them by myself."

"Are all Shinigami this rude? Just say 'thank you'."

"Why _were_ you passing by? You're pretty far from Quincy territory."

"I could ask you the same. I thought your people didn't actively hunt Hollow. Or are you hypocrites as well as hypercritical?"

The man rolled his eyes and strapped his sword across his back. Uryuu folded his arms to ward against the cold, his soggy shirt giving a subdued squelch from the motion. The Shinigami looked him over more thoroughly and voiced some of the questions flitting across his incredulous features.

"What happened to you? Have you been out here all night!?"

"I had no choice," Uryuu reluctantly confirmed. "I recently…lost my home. I have nowhere else to go."

" _Anywhere_ is better than this forsaken forest."

Gaze sharpening into a glare, he snapped, "Then I'll just be going 'anywhere'. Good day."

He started to stride off the battlefield but a call from the Shinigami stopped him.

"Wait! If…if you really don't have a place to go, why don't you come with me?"

"What?"

"Come back to the cabin with me to wait out the storm. You can get dry, warm up, and have dinner with us."

"Who is 'us'?" Uryuu asked, growing apprehensive.

"I live with some other Shinigami. They're all decent guys."

"I'm not sure what kind of trickery this is, but I won't—"

"No trickery, I swear," the man asserted, stepping closer. "Look, even though I could've handled those Hollow, I do appreciate the aid. Let me repay the gesture."

"No need. I can take care of myself without relying on the dubious honor of my sworn enemies."

"Our people may be enemies but you and I are not," he reasoned with another step forward. "As evidenced by the fact that you just…saved my life."

Hearing him finally admit the obvious slightly soothed Uryuu's initial irritation.

"A nice notion, but it doesn't change anything. You can't be trusted."

"Not even if I give my word as a warrior that no harm will come to you while you are under our roof?"

That statement, uttered with confident sincerity, challenged Uryuu's steadfast refusal. His offer of succor from the storm was extremely tempting in light of his dismal condition. It did seem like the perfect trap but what choice did he have? The elements, Hollow, or his own waning will to live were as likely to snuff him out as these Shinigami. Unless they planned to torture him for military information he didn't even have, they were the lesser of several evils. Plus, despite what he'd said, _this_ Shinigami seemed trustworthy for whatever reason. Or maybe the prince was just feverish.

"All right. On your word, Shinigami."

"You have it," he solemnly vowed. "I'm Ichigo, by the way."

A conflicted pause followed his introduction. As an ordinary Quincy, he would be at moderate risk of abuse from any given Shinigami. As the former _royal prince_ of the entire Quincy kingdom, he could be imprisoned or even enslaved on principle. His given name and face, however, were not well known throughout the lands. At least, not remotely as recognizable as Ryuuken's. Therefore, it should be safe as long as he did not reveal his family name. He met Ichigo's expectant stare.

"Uryuu. My name is Uryuu."

"Let's go, Uryuu, before we freeze from all this damned rain."

* * *

The journey to the Shinigami's cabin was not half as arduous as it felt but Uryuu's vitality was at an all-time low. A fact which was emphasized each time he stumbled and Ichigo glanced over his shoulder in mild concern. It didn't help that the soil was slick and swollen from the deluge. Nor that Uryuu kept glancing this way and that, wondering if he should just make a run for it after all. His racing thoughts only intensified as the minutes passed.

Finally, he halted in the middle of the narrow path and covered his face with shaking hands. He had no clue what he was doing and the trepidation was shredding his insides to writhing ribbons.

One week ago everything had been fine and normal. His father had chastised him about something frivolous and Uryuu had walked out of the castle in a show of rebellion. But when he had returned later that evening, he found Ryuuken slain on the council room floor with Haschwalth expressionlessly mopping the king's blood off his gleaming blade. Now every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father's dull, empty eyes staring back at him.

"Uryuu, look out!"

He raised his head in time to witness Ichigo darting in front of him to block a Hollow's outstretched talons with his drawn sword. The Shinigami shoved it back and parried another strike before swinging straight for its grimacing bone-pale mask. It gave a grating wail and dropped to the mud, defeated. Swiveling to face Uryuu, he wordlessly demanded to know why he had been spacing out like that. He was too busy marveling over Ichigo's rescue to answer.

"A-are we close to your home?" he recovered enough to deflect.

"Yeah. It's not far."

"Then, let us continue."

Frowning like he didn't approve of the forced subject change, the Shinigami nonetheless led him the rest of the way to his cabin. It resolved amid the fog ere long. Candlelight flickering in the windows and smoke curling from a chimney boasted ample comfort. The tantalizing aroma of a savory stew set his mouth watering as Ichigo opened the front door. The instant they walked through it, an overwhelming barrage of sensations assaulted him.

It was _so warm_. Brightly lit, colorful compared with the banality outside, and filled with that delicious smell. The interior was more spacious than it appeared from the outside. Large enough that the number of people filling the first room seemed reasonable. Uryuu counted them. Seven Shinigami, including the one who had guided him there. _Seven_. They all looked up from what they were doing and gawked as silence reigned.

The only noise was of Ichigo gingerly depositing his blade among a collection of similar weapons by the entryway wall. He held out his hand in an obvious request to take Uryuu's, as well. A few stressful seconds ticked by before he relinquished his only method of defense in a house full of capable adversaries. The sight of his bow resting beside all of those swords was disturbingly surreal.

Having successfully disarmed his guest, Ichigo addressed the assembled men as a group.

"This is Uryuu. He'll be joining us for dinner."

With that brief declaration, he resumed motion and gestured for the prince to follow. Nobody said a word while the two of them made their way down a long hallway and into a bathing room of sorts. As soon as the door shut behind them, a mighty uproar broke out in the main room.

"Are you sure about this, Shinigami? Your comrades didn't seem pleased to spy a Quincy in their midst."

"Quit calling me 'Shinigami'. I told you my name, didn't I?" he griped, pushing a fluffy towel into Uryuu's arms. "Don't worry about them. I said you'd be safe here and I meant it."

"But—"

"Go ahead and get cleaned up. I'll be right back with some dry clothes."

Ichigo left as quickly as he had entered, leaving the prince to stand in the middle of the small room clutching the towel and still shivering faintly. He warily took in his surroundings. Everything was wooden except for a tall stack of towels and a copper tub placed against the opposite wall. Wooden walls, wooden buckets, wooden shelves, wooden barrels of water, chopped wood stacked beside a narrow fireplace. There was a cast iron cauldron full of boiling water on a hook above the flames.

Just when he was beginning to formulate some semblance of a strategy to 'get cleaned up', the Shinigami returned holding the promised clothes. He placed them on a shelf and fixed Uryuu with a long-suffering look for remaining in the exact same spot where he had been left.

"Give me a moment to adjust," he crossly defended.

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Ichigo dumped both boiling and room-temperature water into the tub until it was half-full and alluringly steaming. Then he handed Uryuu a bar of soap and gave him an encouraging push toward the bath before turning to go. He paused with a grip on the handle.

"I'll be in the other bathroom down the hall if you need anything else done for you."

Uryuu took offense to the man's patronizing tone but kept his mouth shut for the sake of letting him leave. Deeming it safe to strip, he bemoaned the state of his uniform as he slipped out of it and into the tub. His breath left him in a blissful exhale as he sank into the water. He didn't care that his cuts and abrasions started stinging, he was just happy to be warm. Part of him had wondered if he ever would be again.

A very thorough scrubbing later, Uryuu rinsed, dried, and dressed in the borrowed outfit before proceeding to hand-wash his own clothes. With a needle and some thread, they could be mended to serviceable condition once more. He wasn't ready to give up on the last vestige of his origins, aside from his Quincy cross necklace. The one he had to be careful to keep hidden, he sternly reminded himself, since it was a dead giveaway to his royal heritage. It was completely concealed beneath a linen shirt and thick woolen sweater.

He jumped to hear a knock at the door. Ichigo entered without waiting for his permission.

"Are you still—Oh. Come on, dinner is ready."

The Shinigami grabbed his damp uniform and Uryuu trailed him to another room where a line was tethered horizontally near the ceiling. Ichigo's black robes were already hanging there and he made quick work of adding the Quincy costume beside it. Like their weapons earlier, the forbidden juxtaposition made the prince inexplicably troubled.

All lesser thoughts were banked in lieu of concentrating on what came next.

It was madness. Total pandemonium. Seven hungry men scarfing down bowl after bowl of stew, interspersed with discussion and laughter, outbursts and arguments. Uryuu sat at the corner of a very long table with Ichigo on his right and the only other reticent member of the bunch on his left. He risked a glance at the eerily quiet man, eating with the elegance of a thousand falling sakura petals, and hastily went back to staring into his untouched bowl when their eyes momentarily met.

"What's the matter with you?" Ichigo hissed under his breath. "Aren't you hungry? When was the last time you ate?"

He didn't dare glance up as he softly replied to the latter, "Yesterday morning."

A gasp across from Uryuu had him looking up despite himself. The blond-haired Shinigami with solemn eyes leaned toward him.

"Oh, you poor thing, you must be ravenous! Please, dig in. Have as much as you like. Shuuhei is an excellent cook."

"Thanks, Izuru." A man two seats down from him, evidently the cook, smiled under the compliment. To Uryuu, he said, "He's right. No need to hold back when there is plenty to spare."

Buoyed by their collective consent, he picked up his spoon and tasted the stew. It was _marvelous_. Although he couldn't bring himself to eat quite as enthusiastically as the red-haired Shinigami on Ichigo's right, Uryuu made his approval of the meal known by his actions. A short, mousy young man fetched him another serving before he even had to ask.

"Thank you, um…"

"Hanatarou," he chirped with a shy grin. "You're welcome."

"How inconsiderate, Ichigo!" called a tall Shinigami wearing a green-and-white striped hat on the far end. "You still haven't introduced us all to your Quincy friend."

The red-haired Shinigami snorted, "Some host you are."

Scowling like he wanted to deck both of them, Ichigo obligingly turned to Uryuu.

"Clockwise from your left is Byakuya, who thinks he's better than everyone. The guy across from you with permanent puppy-eyes is Izuru. Next is Hanatarou, sweet to a fault. Shuuhei is cool as long as you don't try to spar with him—then he's downright terrifying—and that old man on the end is Kisuke. Don't swallow anything he gives you. Ever. Lastly, this loud-mouthed idiot on my right is Renji. Happy now?"

Ichigo sat back and took a long swig of water as everyone at the table glared at him for the unkind descriptions. The one labeled as a 'loud-mouthed idiot' immediately lived up to his reputation.

"Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?"

"Don't try to deny it, Renji. Not after that time you got chased by a bear after thinking it was a Hollow."

"And this," diplomatically interrupted Shuuhei, "Is Ichigo, our hot-headed rebel. Of all the Shinigami you could have bumped into today, I bet you're wishing it wasn't this one, huh?"

"How did you know?"

Uryuu earned a round of chuckles for the joke, and a glare from Ichigo. They all went back to their food and the typical cadence of their conversations as though they hadn't been invaded by a loathsome Quincy. The overall experience was unlike any he had known. Boisterous and jubilant in a way meals at the castle never were. It would've taken some time to get used to this manner of interaction, but Uryuu didn't hate it.

When the last drop of stew was swallowed and everyone was positively stuffed, they worked together to swiftly tidy everything up. Relocating to the living area, they sat around for another couple of hours just talking. One of them inevitably asked about Uryuu and he told them the same as he had told Ichigo: that he no longer had a home and would not be returning to the Quincy kingdom anytime soon. Beyond that, he was disinclined to divulge. Fortunately, Ichigo tried to change the topic before the other Shinigami could pressure him into spilling any vital secrets. Except the others weren't willing to let it slide.

"Hold on," Renji interjected, "Wait, Ichigo. You came across this suspicious-as-hell Quincy who wouldn't tell you the tiniest tidbit about himself and your first reaction was to bring him here?"

"It's not like that."

Kisuke hummed with intrigue. "Please, enlighten us."

"Well, I—"

"He took pity on me," claimed Uryuu to save him the trouble. "You all saw the state I was in when we arrived. Besides, how much of a threat could one man be to all of you?"

"I suppose that's fair," Shuuhei agreed. Renji narrowed his eyes in thought but didn't speak up twice.

Then Ichigo ruined it.

"No, that's not it. I mean, that was part of it, I guess. But the main reason was because Uryuu rushed in to save my skin from a massive horde of Hollow even though he could plainly see I'm a Shinigami."

A ripple of impressed murmurs spread through the group.

"A-anyone would have—"

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," Izuru kindly advised. "What you did is no small feat. Not many warriors I've known have such compassion for their foes."

"Even so, the point is moot; Ichigo repaid the favor before we even made it back to this cabin. After that, he had no more obligation to help me than anyone else. Which is why I maintain that the primary reason was pity."

"Don't tell me what my 'primary reasons' are," complained Ichigo.

"Then don't go volunteering useless information."

"It's not 'useless' if I say it isn't. Just be grateful I invited you in the first place!"

"Oh, yes, I am _so_ glad to be rubbing elbows with a pack of rambunctious Shinigami. How shall I ever repay you?"

Uryuu's aggravation ebbed as he realized everyone was staring at them again. On that note, Byakuya abruptly rose and padded gracefully down the hall. A door could be barely heard clicking shut.

"I suppose it is about that time," Kisuke announced. "Sleep well, everyone."

They watched him head for a bedroom on the other side of the cabin. Now that the man mentioned it, Uryuu was feeling incredibly sleepy. It was a miracle he was conscious after all he had endured, and having no rest last night besides. On the way here, he thought he recalled seeing what might have been a cave if he was very lucky. His clothes were probably still damp but if he was to sleep outside, where it was currently marshy and perhaps still raining, it would make no difference.

"Hey," prompted Ichigo. "You're not thinking of going back into the forest, are you?"

Shuuhei magnanimously clarified, "You are welcome to stay here for the night."

"Yes, we would never think of turning you out on a night like this," Izuru asserted and Hanatarou nodded emphatically.

Renji squinted at the prince but didn't contradict his friends' hospitality. He got up to find his own room rather than await the conclusion of this scene. For Uryuu's part, he wasn't sure what to do. Regardless of their varying attitudes, he was not keen on the idea of spending the night in close proximity with so many Shinigami. On the other hand, they had been nothing but non-threatening with him and there was no strategic benefit to tricking him into letting down his guard when they could easily force whatever they wanted from him. If they wanted anything at all.

"I…would like to stay," he finally informed them. "If you are sure I won't be a hindrance."

"Nah, I'm sure Ichigo doesn't mind," Shuuhei reassured with a smirk. "Do ya, Ichigo?"

Rather than answer the teasing question, he scrubbed a hand through his ginger fringe and scowled. Izuru and Hanatarou snickered at his thinly veiled discomfiture. Uryuu glanced between the four of them, searching for the hidden punchline.

"I don't understand. What doesn't Ichigo mind?"

"Sharing a bed with you, of course," cheerfully replied Shuuhei.

Uryuu's eyes flared as his spine stiffened. "What? No, there must be some misunderstanding. I don't—"

"The thing is," Hanatarou began, cringing in sympathy, "Between the seven of us, we don't have a lot of space as it is. Most of us share rooms."

"Kisuke has his own because he needs the extra space for his equipment and supplies," said Izuru.

Shuuhei joined in with, "And Byakuya gets his own because he refuses to share with anyone. Renji and I share a room, as do Izuru and Hana."

"So, Ichigo is the only one who can accommodate a guest," finished Hanatarou with a little wave of emphasis. "And sleeping in the living room isn't really an option since there are no spare blankets. It gets very cold in here at night even with a fire."

Uryuu took one look at the sullen Shinigami in question, gaze aimed anywhere but at him, and resolved that he would rather freeze to death in a cave than shack up with that obnoxious heathen for one night.

"In that case, I appreciate the offer but I must take my leave. I'll see myself out."

"Whoa, whoa," chanted Shuuhei as if the prince were a skittish horse.

"This is nothing to joke about," Izuru gently scolded. "Without proper shelter, you might not surive the night."

"Well, that…wouldn't exactly be the worst thing to happen to me lately." The solemn confession stunned them into strained silence. Uryuu pushed to a stand and ignored the way he wavered just a bit. "Thank you for the meal."

Suddenly, Ichigo stood and gave a disgusted scoff before stomping down the hall to slam a door. When Uryuu's shock at this impetuous display faded, he realized Hanatarou had taken hold of his sleeve.

"Please don't go back out there, Uryuu. I have a bad feeling you won't make it till morning if you do."

"Ichigo can be a real brat sometimes but avoiding him isn't worth dying over," Shuuhei reasoned. "Once you get to know him, he's not so bad."

Izuru nodded and seconded, "Give him a chance. Ichigo's true colors will surprise you."

More than anything they said, the factor that nudged him toward staying was the inkling that they were never going to let him walk out the door whether he wanted to stay or not. Uryuu looked at each of their concerned faces in turn and sighed.

"Which door is his?"

Ichigo was staring out a clear circle rubbed in his frosted window when Uryuu walked in. A single burning candle lit the narrow area and cast flickering shadows across the brooding man. He turned at the sound of his door closing and gaped at the last person he expected to see in his room. His default expression of a full-face frown was back in an instant.

"Decided you're not too good to share space with a Shinigami? Wonders never cease." Uryuu pivoted to reach for the door—on second thought, he really would prefer the woods—but Ichigo hurried over to hold it shut. "Calm down, I take it back. Don't be so sensitive!"

"How should I be, then? Stoic and posturing like you? You're not fooling anyone with this abrasive attitude of yours, you know."

"Oh, like you can talk! You've been acting like a hostage all evening. Meanwhile, my friends have been nothing but nice to you. When are you going to drop the hostility?"

"Right after you do!"

Sucking in a breath for another cutting rejoinder, Ichigo thought better of it at the last second. His teeth clicked shut and he went back to the rain-sluiced window, shiny and black as a slab of onyx. The distorted reflection cast within it gradually shifted from fuming to pensive.

"Fine," he snapped at length. "I can be civil if you can. I'm too tired for this."

Truer words were never spoken. Uryuu hummed in agreement. They both switched their attention to the sole bed in the small room. It wasn't nearly as wide as his had been in the castle, but that was to be expected. Ichigo watched him walk over and crawl right under the covers. The prince eyed him in subtle warning.

"Don't even think of trying anything weird, Shinigami."

"Same to you, Quincy," he fired back, not missing a beat. "Scoot over."

Since Uryuu was practically pressed against the wall already, he rolled over to face it in the hope that its intricate grain patterns could distract him from the reality that he was lying beside the enemy—a haughty Shinigami, and a man besides. When he risked a peek over his shoulder a moment later, Ichigo was also facing away from him on the opposite edge of the mattress. He had better stay that way, thought Uryuu.


	12. Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami Pt2

Part 2

* * *

The prince eased into wakefulness like a leaf gliding down to kiss the river's smooth surface. Radiating warmth and comfort, he was loath to open his eyes at first. Uryuu was still basking in the reassuring afterglow of a dream featuring his grandfather's kind smile. The affectionate way Souken used to set his palm atop his grandchild's head was something Uryuu hadn't thought of in a very long time and he wanted to enjoy the memory a little while longer.

There was also the fact that he hadn't slept this soundly in over a week. Debilitating grief for his father aside, the prince had been thrown into a ghastly dungeon from the moment he'd discovered Haschwalth's crime. His uncle's excuse having been that Uryuu was 'dangerously delirious' and making severely false accusations. For who could believe Ryuuken's most loyal could ever commit such an atrocity against the king he had sworn to protect?

Residual happiness quashed under those weighty musings, Uryuu finally cracked his eyes open. He gave a tiny gasp and belatedly brought a hand up to cover the sound because Ichigo's sleeping profile was inches from his nose. It wasn't even the Shinigami's fault, as he was corralled against the edge with an arm hanging off the side of the bed. No, it was Uryuu who had moved closer sometime in the night. Unconsciously seeking out heat, surely!

He scooted back so fast he hit the wall with a dull thud and cringed from a shooting pain in his elbow. The sudden sound and movement did not wake Ichigo. Thanking all that was sacred for this mercy, the prince sat up and froze at what he saw. The flimsy strings securing the deep neckline of Ichigo's shirt had slipped undone, leaving the peasant-style top to gape audaciously and expose a broad section of his defined chest. And Uryuu was _not_ staring.

It took every ounce of his considerable agility to climb over the Shinigami and out of bed without disturbing him. Uryuu crept from the room and down the hall to where his uniform was hanging, blessedly dry. He donned it in a hurry and made a break for freedom but Shuuhei called out as he was passing the kitchen area. The man was using a long ladle to stir a huge pot of porridge over a smoldering hearth.

"Good morning," he greeted and Uryuu quietly mimicked the polite phrase. A smirk dawned as Shuuhei looked over his hasty state of dress. "Nice hairstyle. Is that 'bedhead chic'?"

Lifting a hand to comb wayward locks into line, he mumbled, "I didn't exactly consult a looking-glass."

"In a rush to be out of bed? Can't imagine why, seeing how rested you look. Did you sleep well, Uryuu?"

Heat rose to his cheeks in response. There was nothing inherently scandalous about the words but the way Shuuhei said them had him worried the Shinigami suspected more than he should.

"I…A-as well as anyone could under the circumstances," Uryuu stammered. "If you will excuse me, I shall be on my way. Thank you for the hospitality."

"Huh? Wait!"

The prince didn't wait, but scampered down the hall and across the common area toward the front entrance. The two older Shinigami were lounging there, Byakuya reading a book and Kisuke fiddling with some unidentifiable contraption. Both looked up to notice his passage but neither made a move to halt his exit. Uryuu snatched up his bow and arrows, yanked open the door, and strode out into the morning's majestic brilliance. The colorful contrast to yesterday's monochrome was astonishing. He paused to squint against the glaring sun and Shuuhei caught hold of his wrist.

"Please unhand me," Uryuu courteously insisted.

"Okay," he agreed, instantly complying, "But you should at least have some breakfast before you depart. Where are you so eager to run off to? I thought you had nowhere to go."

"I don't, but…I have intruded upon you all long enough. Moreover, I should set out early if I am to find a campsite and raise a suitable shelter before dusk."

Appraising him for a moment, Shuuhei soberly said, "Listen, no offense intended but I can tell you aren't necessarily the type of outdoorsman who can just stake a claim and pitch a tent so easily. You would need tools, supplies, and a ton of hard work."

"Be that as it may, I must try."

"What I'm saying is," he ventured, moving to block Uryuu's path when he started to leave, "There is no set deadline here. You should take a few days to build a plan of action rather than dashing off into the woods unprepared."

"A few _days_? No, I am positive Ichigo would not appreciate—"

"Tch. There you go making assumptions about me again," protested the man in question, stepping out from the cabin to address them. Hanatarou tagged along beside him. "I don't care if you stay for a while, since you saved my life and everything."

Setting aside the fact that he was supposed to be asleep, the resounding candor of Ichigo's words rendered him mute for a handful of charged seconds. Based on how they had bickered last night, Uryuu got the impression he was hardly tolerated in the Shinigami's presence. Still, that was beside the point. As a Quincy, he really had no business cohabitating with any of them. No matter how limited his options were. He didn't need to remind himself that if they discovered his royal lineage, their pleasant pretense would disintegrate in a heartbeat.

"And you saved mine. The debt is nullified and not one of you owes me anything. We can go back to being enemies without remorse."

Ichigo gave a short growl of agitation and stalked forth to invade his personal space.

"Didn't I already say we're not enemies, Uryuu? Maybe we could have been, but that was before you chose to fight by my side instead of letting those Hollow tear me apart."

The wisdom in his message demanded acknowledgment and the prince failed to rally refutation. Shuuhei cleared his throat to add further incentive against leaving.

"I'm sure I don't have to emphasize the recent Hollow population boom being an issue, as well. Do you think you could fight off a horde once they've stumbled onto your camp?"

"That's right!" cried Hanatarou. "We haven't seen them gathering in such numbers for decades. It isn't safe out there alone; that's why we always patrol in pairs. Well, everyone but Ichigo."

Izuru walked outside then and tentatively took Uryuu's hand, saying, "All fine arguments. Shall we continue to discuss this over breakfast? The porridge will get cold."

In spite of everything, the prince allowed himself to be shepherded back into the fold. His bow went back beside the sword stack. They all filed in to gather around the dining table and join Renji, Kisuke, and Byakuya, who were already digging into their meals. Izuru ladled out a serving for Uryuu and smiled when their eyes met. Warmth from the smooth wooden bowl seeped into his hands and seemingly spread to his face. He wasn't eager to admit how humbled he was by their compassion. Even Ichigo—who he was beginning to infer was all bark and absolutely no bite—was making an effort to treat him better.

Uryuu tasted the porridge and reveled in its delicate sweetness. He decided that he would stay for the time being and see how the day went. In the meantime, guest etiquette required that he make himself useful in any way possible. Voicing this very intention during a lull in conversation, Uryuu was not surprised to hear at least one dubious reaction.

"Yeah, you'd better chip in," grumbled Renji between slurped spoonfuls, "We don't need any dead weight on this team."

Kisuke was quick to reply, "Funny you mention that, since I seem to recall a time when you were a freeloader yourself."

The table erupted in laughter at the private joke. Byakuya was the only one exempt from humor. He stood and went to clean his dishes before heading back to his room. The taciturn Shinigami emerged a few minutes later decked in the infamous black robes the rest of them already wore. Kisuke hurried to catch up as he glided from the cabin without a parting glance.

"Those two are partners, I gather?" Five astounded faces swiveled to gawk at Uryuu. "Hanatarou said you always fight Hollow in pairs…?"

"Oh, that!" Giggling nervously, Hanatarou said, "Yes, they usually patrol together. We mix it up sometimes but mostly it's the same as our sleeping arrangements."

"Which means you'll be spending a little more time with Ichigo in the field." Consoling the prince with his tone, Shuuhei added, "Try to bear with him for a while."

"I'll do my best," mumbled Uryuu.

Rolling his eyes at their insults, Ichigo's chair grated against the stone floor as he pushed to a stand. He grabbed the back of Uryuu's jacket and dragged him upright, too.

"You're done eating, right? Let's go kill some Hollow."

His complaints were disregarded as the Shinigami thrust Uryuu's bow back into his grip before hefting his giant sword across his back. Ichigo pushed him through the open door and led the way into the forest.

* * *

They spent hours circling a wide swath of wilderness in companionable silence. At least, Uryuu chose to believe it was companionable. It was difficult to say what with the way Ichigo mostly ignored him. It wasn't until after their third run-in with Hollow that he even looked directly at the prince. Even then, only fleetingly. Their gazes intersected for an instant and the Shinigami jerked his eyes away as though blinded. He stepped over a Hollow's corpse and made to continue along an imperceptible trail. Uryuu caught up to him and braced for a vexing interaction.

"Why are we doing this? Why do you all patrol for Hollow every day?"

"What kind of question is that, coming from a Quincy? The way your people have been decimating Hollow for centuries, shouldn't you be grateful?"

"I didn't say I disapprove," Uryuu icily underscored, "But you just proved my point. If Shinigami prefer not to slay Hollow when avoidable, why would the seven of you be systematically hunting them down like this?"

"Because we don't have the luxury of lenience anymore."

Although he patiently waited for Ichigo to provide more information, it was not forthcoming. Uryuu held a branch out of their way and indicated with his expression that he was not amused.

"Care to elaborate?"

"It's simple," he grudgingly explained, "More Hollow mean more attacks on both kingdoms. Ours is better fortified, since we focused on defense whereas your people focused on offense, but even our walls won't hold against an army forever. So, our king dispatched Kisuke to research Hollow and determine if there really is a way to revert them back to human."

"So, that's why he has an entire room full of 'equipment'?"

"Right. And while he's researching, we're doing damage control. Thinning the herd to buy some time. Get it?"

"It isn't a terrible strategy…assuming you're right and they exist due to some ancient curse. It could be an illness."

"Kisuke isn't ruling that out, either. He isn't ruling anything out, which is why it's taking so long."

"How long have you been living out here?"

"Me? Just a few months. Everyone else? Ranging from almost a year to over three."

"Hold on," Uryuu requested as he slowed to a stop. Ichigo paused to face him. "Aside from maybe Hanatarou, aren't you the youngest of the group?"

"Hana is older than he looks, so I'm definitely the youngest. Why?"

"Well, you claim that you have only been at this for a few months, yet you are proficient enough in battle to regularly charge off on your own and none of your comrades object. Having seen your skills first-hand, I also cannot discount them as subpar."

"Is that how Quincy give compliments?" asked Ichigo with a puzzled tilt of his head. "You kind of suck at it."

"No, that wasn't—What I am _trying_ to discern is how you came to wield these abilities. What did you do before you joined this expedition?"

Ichigo frowned and adopted a confrontational stance.

"I should ask you the same. Why are you so good with that bow of yours when you have no survival skills to speak of?"

"You say that as if the two must go hand-in-hand."

"They tend to. If you're not a hunter and you're too young to be an experienced soldier, why don't you ever miss a target?"

Because Uryuu had spent many years practicing on the castle grounds as a child. No son of Ryuuken's would fall short of complete mastery in all things Quincy, archery most of all. Shifting uncomfortably under the man's stare, he opted for evasion rather than hint at the truth.

"We were talking about _you_ , Shinigami."

"And now we are talking about you." The aggressive scrunch of his brow deepened and his chin rose in challenge. "Why won't you tell us anything about you? Why can't you go back to your kingdom? What are you running from, Uryuu?"

"That's personal. It has nothing to do with you!"

"Maybe Renji was right to doubt you. How do I know you're not a Quincy spy sent to steal intel from us? You could have saved me yesterday just to earn our trust. Was this pathetic 'lost kitten' act engineered to play on our sympathy?"

"Lost _kitten_!?" yelled Uryuu, utterly affronted. "I am nothing of the sort!"

"So, you admit it was a ruse? What exactly are you after, huh? What secrets did they send you to collect?"

"I am not a spy!"

"Then tell me what happened the night before you found me!"

"I can't!"

They squared off in the middle of the forest, breath quickened by anger and anxiety. Uryuu itched to grasp his weapon and nock a preemptive arrow but he knew the bellicose overture would tip them past the breaking point.

His frenzied endeavors to summon a phrase that might defuse the imminent explosion were superseded by the incursion of a lunging Hollow, lured by their shouting match. Its claws were aimed straight at Ichigo's unguarded neck. Uryuu shoved the Shinigami aside and did his best to dodge but he still suffered a quartet of shallow slashes to his midsection for the maneuver. The Hollow skidded across the ground and shrieked as it tensed for another attack. Uryuu's arrow was already flying from the taut arch of his bow to imbed between the creature's eyes. It slumped to the dirt without so much as a whimper.

Doubling over to hold his bleeding belly, he nevertheless glanced over to check on Ichigo. The man was unhurt and gaping at him like he had sprouted his own set of claws. Uryuu dropped to a knee and grit his teeth against the pain. It wasn't serious, he could tell, but it was far from the nicest feeling in the world and the shock of it was making him lightheaded. Noticing the Shinigami rise and begin to approach, he forced himself up to take a wary step back. Now that he was injured, it would be ridiculously easy for Ichigo to finish him off and eliminate any threat from a possible spy.

He reached out and Uryuu flinched. Halting at the sign of fear, Ichigo murmured, "Relax, I just want to see how bad it is."

"It's fine," the prince decreed even as blood welled beneath his fingers.

"Then let me see it."

"Keep away, Shinigami! Weren't you working up to murdering me a moment ago?"

"No, you idiot," he reprimanded without heat, "I was _testing_ you. If you were a spy, you would have had a ready answer for every question. A contrived cover story designed to make you seem harmless. The fact that you won't tell me anything at all means you're probably some kind of outlaw."

"What sort of skewed logic is that?" criticized Uryuu. He was impressed and annoyed at the same time.

Ichigo shrugged and brushed aside the arms guarding his middle to inspect the damage.

"These cuts don't seem life-threatening but we should return to the cabin and treat them."

For once, Uryuu was inclined to agree with him. Salvaging his undamaged arrow, as usual, he nodded for Ichigo to lead the way back. They took the most direct route and made it there in record time.

Once safely indoors, the Shinigami instructed him to wait in one of the washrooms while he gathered supplies. He perched on the short wooden bench beside the tub and peeled shredded fabric from sticky skin. Pocketing his incriminating necklace, he shrugged out of the jacket and pulled the tunic over his head. The dull ache flared into a sharp pain with the movement and Uryuu indulged a hushed groan of discontent. As if he didn't have enough minor bruises and scrapes to deal with…

He made quick work of cleaning them and Ichigo was hovering in the doorway when he looked up.

"Don't just stand there, pass me that roll of bandages," he snapped, goading the man into action.

"Uh, sure. Here, use this ointment, too. Kisuke made it. Works like a charm…Actually, it might really be a charm."

Taking the offered tin, Uryuu sniffed at its contents and detected a few familiar herbal elements. Good enough for him, he figured, dabbing it onto the newest cuts and then some of the old. Ichigo flipped over an empty bucket and sat across to watch him work.

"Enjoying the show?" he flippantly taunted, hoping it would encourage the Shinigami to leave. It did not.

"Need any help? I've been through this process plenty of times."

"I am perfectly capable of treating myself. Believe it or not, I have had extensive training in tending wounds."

"Adept in archery _and_ healing, eh? So, learning about you isn't as impossible as you pretend. This guessing game is growing on me."

"This isn't a game! The less you know about me, the better."

"The less you want me to know about you, the more I want to know."

Uryuu shot him a glare for being difficult but it warped into surprise. Ichigo was _smiling_ at him. It was laced with mischief but it was there and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He concentrated on wrapping his stomach in bandages and didn't pause until he tied off the end. Of course, Ichigo was still staring when he glanced up. Uryuu stared back, thinking about their argument in the woods. The one he couldn't stop seething over.

"'Lost kitten'? Seriously?"

"What? You didn't see yourself yesterday, Uryuu! Standing in the rain, shaking and soaked with those sad eyes. I don't think I've ever seen anything so…"

He looked away, electing not to finish that sentence even when the silence lengthened in its wake. A prudent decision.

"For the record, Ichigo, I am _nothing_ like a kitten. Lost or otherwise."

"My mistake," he surrendered, palms upraised. "I'll get you another shirt."

Pulling on the clothing Ichigo brought, he lamented the pitiful condition of his own. The tunic was doomed and his jacket didn't look promising, either. At this point, Uryuu wasn't sure it was worth a mend but he was determined to try. Which is how he ended up settled on a sofa and threading a needle ten minutes later while Ichigo threw together a simple lunch for them. A plate was placed on the table beside and the Shinigami dropped into the chair across from him. He watched Uryuu work as he ate. This was beginning to become an issue between them.

"I can't be your best form of entertainment," the prince griped without compromising his immaculate focus on the stitching. "What could be less captivating than watching someone _sew_?"

"I was just appreciating the fact that I can add 'good at sewing' to the list of things I know about you."

Uryuu pursed his lips at the smug tone. It made him say something stupid out of spite.

"Has it occurred to you that I might be more open to divulging personal details if you are? Sharing is a two-way street."

Ichigo's eyes lit up. The half-eaten sandwich he was about to take a bite of was abandoned and with a little coaxing, an accord was struck. They began to talk of many things. Stilted and slow at first, because everything had to be reviewed and revised before Uryuu dared vocalize it. The most trivial piece of information could bring him to ruin. Yet, he was strangely curious about Ichigo, as well. It was enough to keep him trying.

* * *

They played this thrilling game of verbal cloak-and-dagger for the rest of the afternoon. They lost track of the time, lost track of the reasons it should matter. A few hours in and they had made an alarming turnaround from that morning. At one point, Ichigo almost made him laugh. It was unfathomable and perplexing and scary. It was too easy.

The jacket had long since been repaired to the best of his ability and he folded it with an air of finality. Ichigo saw the way he shifted gingerly to avoid jostling tender wounds. His eyes left Uryuu's to seek the floor.

"I guess I forgot to say thank you," he wryly murmured, "For coming to my rescue again. Despite me yelling accusations at the time…"

"Odd how you seem to need daily rescuing."

When Ichigo didn't puff up indignantly, the prince felt a twinge of remorse. It swelled into a stab of regret at the Shinigami's sincere reply.

"My carelessness is to blame."

"No," Uryuu sighed, resolving to keep his antagonism at bay, "Not your carelessness, but your sword."

"My…sword?"

"Yes, Ichigo, your sword. I've seen how long it takes you to draw and to swing. That cumbersome thing is putting you at needless risk in battle. Although there is no question you possess the strength to wield it, the penalty to your celerity is staggering. When facing multiple foes at once, speed is crucial. Trust me, I would know. You should fare much better with a smaller blade. Perhaps then I would not have to swoop in and protect you."

Rather than negate the analysis out of hand, Ichigo took a minute to mull it over. He tossed a glance toward the entryway where his broadsword sat propped against the wall.

"I never really thought about it but you might be right. It's worth a shot, anyway." A version of the earlier smile teased along the shape of his mouth. "Thanks for the suggestion."

Whatever Uryuu may have said was forgotten in the noisy arrival of Shuuhei and Renji in the middle of a debate. The irritable redhead was clutching a crimson splash at his side.

"That's why I told you to _wait_ , Renji."

"If I had waited any longer, you wouldn't have a head, Shuu."

"What happened?" asked Ichigo, rising to examine his friend's injury.

"Take a guess," Renji grunted. "I'll live."

He marched down the hall to slam the bathroom door. The other two Shinigami watched him go but didn't follow.

"The wound isn't deep," assured Shuuhei. "Why are you back early?"

"Same reason as you." They looked to Uryuu, who self-consciously adjusted his borrowed shirt to ensure it covered the bandages. "He shoved me out of the way and took a hit that could've eviscerated him. Right after I labeled him a spy."

Shuuhei was staring at him the same way Ichigo had when it happened. They shared a serious look that Uryuu couldn't decipher. Then the moment was over and they resumed a more normal topic, mostly conjecture about the Hollow's swelling numbers. With injury tended and clothes changed, Renji soon came out to join the discussion. The prince was content to listen and glean what he could about the things he did not yet comprehend.

The other Shinigami eventually trickled home in pairs and went about their typical evening rituals with practiced synchrony. They convened at the dining table for a hearty repast when everything was arranged, and moved to the common area once they'd had their fill. It was Shuuhei who told the others what Uryuu had done for Ichigo again that afternoon and the prince bowed his head under their praise. He was not used to receiving accolades, especially from those whose objective was not catering to his royal ego. Still, their positive regard for him was heartening beyond words and it made him strangely happy.

Socialization began to wane as the Shinigami excused themselves for the night until all save Ichigo and he lingered in the living room. Uryuu knew how he was meant to proceed but he found himself unwilling to budge. Thinking of that morning's awkward awakening shot anxious energy into his bloodstream. Glancing toward the front door, he reminded himself that staying there was what he had decided and it wouldn't do to renege now.

As he deliberated, Ichigo quietly watched him with a very open and inquiring expression. It declared that he recognized Uryuu's inner turmoil and would not force or try to influence him in any way. The choice was entirely up to him. This show of deference, more than anything, served to stoke his courage. Uryuu led the way through the cabin to the man's bed and took his place upon it near the wall. His scratches irked him only briefly but Ichigo heard it in the disrupted pattern of his breathing.

"Are you in pain?"

"Nothing a good rest won't alleviate."

"Then be sure to rest well," Ichigo sternly said, "For I take no pleasure in seeing you hurting."

The prince's reflexive agitation was gradually overshadowed as he perceived the inspiration behind his command. A Shinigami was actually feeling _guilty_ over a Quincy's distress. It was nigh incomprehensible and Uryuu couldn't take his eyes off the man even long after he rolled over to face away.

* * *

Waking alone the next morning, Uryuu could not help but be relieved. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had been dreading the possibility of yesterday's indiscretion repeated. As it was, he noted how his limbs were sprawling out at every angle like he had eagerly endeavored to fill the space Ichigo had vacated. The unconscious exploit didn't bode well but he chose not to dwell on it.

Hanatarou was reading in the living area when he ventured forth from the sunny bedroom.

"Oh, good morning, Uryuu!" he brightly greeted. "How are you feeling?"

One of Uryuu's hands grazed his belly as he replied, "Much better, thank you."

"Do you mind if I examine you? I happen to be an accomplished healer."

"Is that why the others left you behind? To take care of me?" the prince bitterly demanded. "Was this Ichigo's foolish suggestion?"

The poor man paled under his glare. Uryuu took a calming breath and apologized for his improper behavior. Hanatarou forgave his minor tantrum with a gentle shake of his head.

"He was concerned about you, and rightly so. Besides, I am more use as a healer than a warrior any day!"

"Well, I regret to tell you such services will not be necessary. The wound was superficial and it is healing swiftly with the aid of Kisuke's salve."

"Glad to hear it, but may I at least change the dressing?"

Thus, it was with little preamble that Uryuu's bandages were reapplied freshly. Hanatarou reheated a plate of breakfast that had been thoughtfully set aside for the prince. He regaled Uryuu with all manner of interesting subjects as he ate. It seemed the Shinigami had an aptitude for idle chatter as well as medicine.

Over the course of their afternoon together, Uryuu learned many important things. Chiefly, that their group had been commissioned by the Shinigami king himself, who Uryuu knew had been in the process of serious peace talks with Ryuuken before his death. He imagined that nascent pact would have been one of the first things discarded under his bloodthirsty uncle's reign.

When even their king requested aid against the growing Hollow incursion, every single Shinigami there had volunteered to step forward and help. Even though it meant seclusion in these hazardous woods for an indeterminate amount of time. Yet, they had not been left to fend entirely for themselves. They received twice-monthly shipments of supplies, food, clothing, and occasionally new weapons to keep them well-outfitted for the all-important task.

"So, essentially you're saying the seven of you are out here fighting every day at great personal risk from both Hollow and Quincy, for the good of my people _and_ yours, with marginal reward?" Hanatarou pondered that question before nodding agreement. Uryuu shook his head in wonder and said, "Now Ichigo's attitude toward me makes a lot more sense."

A light sparked in his eyes as he animatedly began, "Oh, Ichigo is actually a really amazing person! He comes across as belligerent at first but once he warms up to you, he has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I've ever known. You just have to know what to look for. You'll see."

Yes, the prince thought, he had gotten a glimpse of that warmer side his friends kept boasting last night. But that didn't exactly make Ichigo a shining example of perfection. Then again, no one was ever truly perfect. On that note, Uryuu deliberately changed the subject.

"What about the others? Do you have anything enlightening to say about them?"

Hanatarou grinned and gushed with good-natured gossip. Renji and Shuuhei had been brothers-in-arms for nearly a decade when they joined this ambitious venture. They had fought in several Quincy battles in addition to all those against Hollow. Hanatarou was mostly trained in healing and wasn't a very good warrior—per his own words—which was why he had been paired with Izuru. In spite of his modest, soft-spoken nature, Izuru was a dedicated soldier who refused to give up no matter how gruesomely asunder he had been torn on several occasions. Their resident genius, Kisuke, was possibly half-mad but mostly harmless to humans. He was always inventing useful and not-so-useful things when he wasn't tirelessly toiling for a Hollow cure. Byakuya was inarguably their strongest fighter but he had personality issues and probably wished he could've been doing more fulfilling work back in the kingdom proper.

"If Byakuya hates it here, why does he stay?"

"Well…this is pure speculation but," hesitantly confided Hanatarou, "We think it has something to do with Kisuke. You see, the two have been known to share a room every once in a while, if you know what I mean."

Eyebrows shooting skyward, Uryuu asked, "Then those two are…?"

"That's the theory. For the most part, we don't dare speak of it for fear of what Byakuya might do if he knew we'd figured it out."

"I never would have guessed. They act so aloof around each other!"

"Back home, we have this saying: 'love strikes where you least expect it'." Uryuu couldn't help mirroring the man's smile. He'd heard that idiom, as well, though it had always sounded absurd to him. "What about you? Did you have to leave someone behind back home?"

"No one like that; I've never been in love. I don't even have family there anymore, which is just as well since I won't be going back in this lifetime."

"May I ask…why can't you return?"

Averting his gaze, Uryuu said, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I was just being nosy!"

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as Hanatarou fidgeted with the overlong sleeve of his sweater.

"I don't know what to do," Uryuu abruptly blurted, rebelling against the unbearable weight of his secrets. And Hanatarou just seemed so _safe_. "I can't go home, I wouldn't be welcome in Shinigami domain, and the woods are inhospitable alone. The distant southern sea seems an insurmountable obstacle and even if I could garner passage across, who is to say I could make a living in the lands beyond it?"

The empathetic Shinigami reached over to touch his arm in camaraderie. He said, "I can't speak for everyone, but Izuru, Shuuhei, and I have discussed it and we would love for you to stay as long as you need. Besides, our king won't mind an honorable Quincy joining the project. He's trying to forge an alliance between our nations, after all."

Uryuu remained silent, reluctant to be the bearer of bad news about that alliance. He appreciated the offer but he still did not belong there. Every minute he stayed among his enemies was a step closer to his inevitable demise. It was only a matter of time before one of them sussed out his lineage. When that moment came he would be powerless to stop it, just as he had been powerless to stop his uncle's ascension to the throne in his stead.

His contemplation was cut short as the door flew open and in rushed Ichigo. His black robes were damp and glossy with fresh blood. Hanatarou jumped up to intercept him with a question half-uttered but he was brusquely pushed aside.

"Relax, Hana, it's not mine," he said on his way to the bathing room. "I just want to get cleaned up."

Uryuu instantly knew it was a lie; he could detect the stress in his bearing borne of pain. He glanced to Hanatarou and wondered why the youngest member of their troupe would shun the aid of a veteran healer. When that healer returned to his seat rather than intrude where he wasn't wanted, Uryuu rose to see to the task himself.

"Allow me," he answered Hanatarou's silent query. He wasn't afraid of Ichigo's ire.

Not bothering to knock, Uryuu pushed into a washroom that was more or less identical to its twin on the reverse end of the cabin. Ichigo had one shoulder out of the gi but froze in the process of removing it entirely when he saw the prince enter.

"Get out."

There were no wounds on his front and most of the blood had missed his hakama, so Uryuu deduced the injury was on his back. He walked around and yanked the collar down to test his hypothesis. Ichigo hissed as the fabric was peeled from a shallow gash in the middle of his back. It would've been difficult for the Shinigami to reach on his own and he had to have known that.

"Why did you lie to your healer?"

"Because he would tell the others and they'd scream at me again for wanting to fight alone."

Grabbing a cloth to dip in a bucket of clean water, Uryuu dabbed at the cut as he asked, "Why _do_ you fight alone? Couldn't you tag along with another duo?"

"Then I'd never get any practice," countered Ichigo. The strain of keeping his voice level in spite of the sting rippled across his shoulders. "You've seen how protective they can be. I didn't come here to be babied."

"Why did you come here? Why volunteer to run such a deadly gauntlet when you could get 'practice' anywhere?"

"None of your business." Ichigo grumbled, "Why are you asking so many questions?"

"I'm distracting you from the discomfort of tending this wound. Or would you prefer I merely stare at you from afar?" quipped Uryuu with a sour sarcasm flavoring his tone.

"Hey, I offered to help with yours yesterday. You refused."

Unable to argue that, he let a hush pervade the room and fished Kisuke's tincture from a pocket. Ichigo gasped when he started to use it. He took a roll of bandages from the stack on a shelf and applied those, too. When it was done, Uryuu declared as much and met Ichigo's eyes when he turned to regard him. The moment stretched while the prince was accosted with an unpleasant jumble of emotions he couldn't comprehend. So, when Ichigo quietly thanked him for the help, Uryuu cracked under this nominal pressure and the emotions came tumbling out.

"You shouldn't have left me here this morning! If I had been with you—"

"As if I was going to drag an injured Quincy into the field with me," he tersely objected. "Are you sure you should be standing right now?"

"I am not some feeble invalid for you to coddle on a whim! Leaving me behind was reckless and arrogant! What if you had been killed instead of merely hurt?"

"Hey, I was doing just fine before you showed up!"

"Except for the part where you keep getting ambushed by Hollow lately. Take a hint and accept your mortality, Shinigami!"

Finally balking at that, Ichigo looked askance and clenched his jaw. He mumbled, "That's why I tried a smaller sword like you suggested."

It was Uryuu's turn to fall silent. Icy horror trickled down his spine at the implication that he was at fault, that _he_ had almost gotten Ichigo killed. The righteous fury drained out of him, replaced with meek contrition. Uryuu swallowed and stared at the floor between them.

"I…I'm sorry, Ichigo. I really thought it would help."

"What? No, Uryuu," he corrected, stepping forward to lift his chin and his gaze with a gentle touch, "It did help! I can move so much faster with a lighter blade, like you said. In fact, I'm convinced things would have been much worse if I hadn't switched out my weapon today. You probably saved my life again…"

"Really?"

" _Yes_ , so quit making that face."

He poked the furrow of Uryuu's forehead in emphasis. Although he swatted Ichigo's hand away, he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed when he was already so relieved. It spurred a more generous mood than was his wont.

"As hardy as you may be, you need to stay home tomorrow at the very least and mend this wound. If you must keep it a secret, use me as your alibi."

"How?"

"I'll tell the others I need you to stay here and care for me."

"You'd hurt Hanatarou's feelings like that?" asked Ichigo, a teasing smirk twitching into place. "He'll be devastated."

"With the way he was praising your character to me earlier, it's more likely he'll be happy to give us the quality time."

Surprise lightened his expression. "Hana said nice things about me?"

"Don't let it go to your head, but yes. Very nice things. Not that I'm sure I believe most of them…"

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to make up your mind if we're going to be here alone all morning and afternoon." Phrased that way, Uryuu was slightly regretting his offer to cover for the man. Ichigo read it on his face and mercilessly added, "With nothing to do but _talk_."

A distressed sound stuck in his throat and he turned to leave the bathroom in a hurry. Ichigo's laughter followed him out.


	13. Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami Pt3

Part 3

* * *

High in a tower atop the largest castle in the kingdom, the newly crowned King of Quincy approached a fresh stack of missives from his many spies. One by one, the vellum scrolls were read and tossed into the crackling fireplace until he came upon a piece of seemingly insignificant information. He paused and went back over the hastily scrawled words in mounting disbelief. The note claimed that a slew of broken blue-and-white arrows had recently been discovered past the fringes of their territory. Knowing that he had not sent hunters that far into the forest and none of his men would dare disobey his orders, Yhwach realized it could mean only one thing.

Crossing the room to stand before a grand and ancient mirror, he searched within its infinite depths to ascertain the truth of this gravest matter. It was the same mystical device that had shown him how best to overthrow the former king, the same device that would keep him in power for the rest of his days. Within its dark surface resolved the figure of his young nephew, hale and hearty and surrounded by the black of his enemies' creed. The prince looked to the orange-haired Shinigami sitting beside him and smiled.

All through the castle's silent halls rang an infuriated roar of, "HASCHWALTH!"

* * *

The prince scoffed and threw down a slender branch that was far too gnarled to make a decent arrow. It collided with a patch of fallen leaves that exploded out in a brilliant shower of warm autumnal hues. For all that the withering forest was full of shed wood, only a small percentage of it was ideal for his purposes. The trifling assortment cradled in the crook of his right elbow served as evidence. Even roaming the woods for a couple of hours hadn't netted him much material for the job, and this was only the first step of several! Uryuu still had to whittle the wood, acquire pristine feathers of suitable strength, and sharpen steel tips he had been saving from damaged arrows. Each one would've taken at least an hour to make.

Drawing to a resigned halt at the tree line bordering the cabin, he sighed and wished not for the first time that there was an easier way to replenish his dwindling stock. Not that he begrudged the work, but every moment he spent crafting new arrows was a moment he could not spend aiding the Shinigami instead.

Uryuu smiled to himself as he analyzed that foreign line of reasoning. Many things had changed during the fortnight he'd spent living among them, not least of all his attitude toward the other men. It had been the same routine since his second day among them: hunt hollow after breakfast, bathe before dinner, and then group conversation until bed. He found the pattern to be oddly comforting. It gave Uryuu a sense of normalcy despite it being anything _but_ in the grand scheme of things.

When there were no Hollow to dispatch on a given day, the Shinigami focused on gathering decaying corpses from the woods to burn far from the river's edge. Sometimes Uryuu would watch the pyre flames and think of his father's funeral, which he hadn't been permitted to attend. He'd pressed himself against the cold stone wall of his cell and listened to the cathedral bells dimly tolling through the barred half-moon of his sole window, glad his mother and grandfather weren't there to hear the sorrowful song.

They would already have held one for him, too. As far as anyone back home knew, Uryuu was dead. Only Haschwalth was privy to the secret and he would be taking that information to his grave or risk Yhwach's retribution. The prince stood gazing out at nothing as he imagined how pitiful his funeral had been. If anyone had attended at all, it would've been for the sake of posterity. A gesture of respect or loyalty to the imperial bloodline itself rather than him personally. Uryuu wasn't so naïve as to assume he had been well-known or liked by the average Quincy citizen. Not like the rest of his family members had been. The sad truth was he'd never meant anything to them because he never let anyone get too close.

Lately, that seemed a valid candidate for his greatest flaw. Perhaps if he'd had friends and allies, he wouldn't have lost _everything_.

"Hey, Uryuu!" hailed Ichigo, approaching from across the wide field ensconcing their cabin. "What are you doing spacing out between the trees? Just because you're this close to home doesn't mean it's safe to let your guard down."

"Who's spacing out? Unlike you, I am perfectly capable of thinking and being alert to my surroundings at the same time. Which of us had a Hollow sneak up on them just yesterday?"

"That was your fault! If you hadn't been so distracting, I—"

"How was I distracting you?" demanded Uryuu without heat. Their daily arguments had lost most of their fire, if not their frequency.

"Don't play innocent. You know what you were doing, damn it!"

Lifting an imperious eyebrow, he retorted, "Even if you say I'm guilty, I can't remember the crime. Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"

"So, you're gonna pretend you _weren't_ spinning an arrow one-handed so fast it blurred?"

"What, like this?"

Uryuu plucked a stick from the pile he carried, deftly twirling the piece of lumber in his left hand. It was an idle gesture he had picked up as a kid. He'd been doing it so long he scarcely noticed it anymore.

"Yes, that!"

"How was I supposed to know something this simple would distract you?"

"It doesn't _look_ simple, smartass," the Shinigami grumbled around a petulant pout, "It looks kinda interesting with the way your fingers move and—Anyway, leave it out next time we patrol!"

"Well, excuse me for doing something 'interesting' without realizing it. If you just came out here to nag me, save your breath. I'm having enough trouble right now without adding you to the list."

He started to walk away but Ichigo followed him.

"What are you doing with those sticks?"

"Fletching new arrows, hopefully. You probably haven't noticed but I'm running low."

"Don't worry about that." Grabbing the bunch of boughs, he ignored Uryuu's objection as he tossed them aside and took hold of the arm he had liberated. "What I came out here to tell you is Kisuke wants your help with something. Come on."

Ichigo led him around the back of the cabin where Kisuke stood by watching Renji and Shuuhei usher a captured Hollow into one of three cages Uryuu had never noticed, sequestered in the scattered shade of an oak cluster. Alarm slowed his steps and hastened his breath. They had never brought a live Hollow back with them since he had been there, but residue in the cages indicated this wasn't the first time they had been occupied.

"Ah, here he is! Thanks for coming, Uryuu," greeted Kisuke. "I have a few questions, if you will be so kind as to indulge me."

"What a coincidence: I have some questions, too."

The older man smiled and glanced at the cage as Renji locked the door behind their prisoner. Shuuhei came to stand beside Uryuu and seemed to project a reassuring air, likely sensing his apprehensions.

"I told you Kisuke's been searching for a cure," reminded Ichigo. "How do you think he tests them?"

Brandishing a glass phial of dark liquid in emphasis, Kisuke said, "Just so. I've gone through every combination of spells, potions, and remedies I could concoct based on our knowledge but I wondered if maybe the Quincy have insight we don't. Would you mind reading this list of ingredients and telling me if any of them seem familiar?"

He pulled a parchment scroll from a pocket and passed it to the prince. While some of the listed items were inscrutable, most of them were easily identified thanks to his comprehensive studies. Botany was one of the few things Ryuuken hadn't forced him to study but he'd had an innate curiosity toward. Pride aside, Uryuu had a substantial amount of education on the subject. He modestly relayed these facts to Kisuke, who promptly beamed with excitement.

"I'm assuming some of these are found only in one kingdom or the other," he told the Shinigami, "Which means you might be less familiar with the properties of flora that would be extremely rare from your perspective. I will be happy to elucidate in any way I can."

"That would be a great help indeed!" Kisuke pocketed his scroll and continued, "For now, would you like to watch the experiment?"

His uncertain gaze automatically sought Ichigo's. It wasn't that Uryuu deferred to his judgment, but so much time spent relying on him in battle had generated a brand of bond between them that resonated with security and faith. Regardless of their many disagreements, he had already grown to trust Ichigo more than almost anyone else in his life. Whether that trust was well-founded or wild folly, he couldn't be sure.

Uryuu turned away from him to hide uneasy thoughts and nodded to Kisuke, who uncorked the phial and walked over to make the Hollow imbibe it. The creature thrashed and gurgled but most of the tonic was swallowed. Minutes passed. Nothing happened.

"Another dud?" asked Renji.

"Seems that way," Shuuhei agreed.

Kisuke was already making notes on a blank scroll, apparently immune to demoralization after so many failed attempts. The sheer willpower such an occupation required was anything but dismissible. Uryuu's admiration for these men grew every day in different ways. Sometimes he even caught himself emulating and learning from them. For example, he had taken to assisting Shuuhei in the kitchen, discussing healing techniques with Hanatarou, and reading the same enriching books as Byakuya to name a few.

"Everyone, come inside," called Izuru, appearing at the back door. "The shipment has just been delivered!"

"About time," Ichigo groused. "It was due three days ago."

They all filed into the common room except Kisuke, who was oblivious to all save his medicated specimen. A stack of crates and bags sat near the front entrance. Hanatarou was already rifling through one of the boxes, extracting folded sets of replacement shihakusho in various sizes. Uryuu sank onto a sofa as everyone else set about unpacking the supplies. He wasn't expecting anything for himself, of course, which was why he blinked in bewilderment when Ichigo strolled over to drop a brown canvas bag into his lap.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

The twine cinching one end came untied readily enough. Uryuu pushed the fabric down to reveal a bulky bundle of black arrows. Plenty to last the rest of the month or more. His gaze darted between Ichigo and the lethal glint of gifted ammunition.

"These are for me?"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo quipped, "Are there any other archers here?"

"No, but…"

Hanatarou wandered over, noticing the prince's confusion, and said, "Ichigo put in the request for more arrows after the second night you stayed with us. He didn't mention it?"

A shake of his head confirmed the obvious. Uryuu tightly gripped the considerate package as he realized what it meant. Although they'd still been on dour terms then, Ichigo had both predicted he would stay and anticipated the need for replacement arrows if that was to be the case. Almost as if he had _wanted_ Uryuu to stay from the outset. Stunned by this epiphany, he couldn't tear his eyes off the man. Ichigo was giving him a weird look for staring, so the prince rallied an alternate excuse for the scrutiny.

"I guess I didn't think it possible that Shinigami made arrows when everyone knows they're a Quincy specialty."

"Of course we make arrows. Some of us use bows, just like some of you use swords." That much was true. Uryuu inwardly scowled as he thought of one regicidal swordsman in particular. "They may not be as fancy as yours but they'll kill Hollow just the same."

"Thank you, Ichigo."

It was his turn to be shocked, not having expected Uryuu to bypass a chance to criticize Shinigami craftsmanship in favor of undiluted gratitude. Because he _was_ grateful. A little moved, even. He touched one of the arrowheads, absently testing its sharpness, as warmth poured into him and threatened to incite a smile.

"Oh, there's news," announced Shuuhei, displaying a thick roll of paper. "Hana, could you go get Kisuke and Byakuya? They'll want to hear this, too."

"On it."

The others settled in around Uryuu as they waited for the senior members to join them. Once everyone was accounted for, Izuru accepted the communiqué from Shuuhei and read it aloud for everyone to hear. It was mostly composed of issues that Uryuu couldn't follow since he had little familiarity with Shinigami state of affairs. Near the end of the report, however, was a disconcerting topic of which he was intimately informed.

"'Latest intelligence from the Quincy kingdom is grim'," Izuru recited, and Uryuu prayed no one noticed how he went rigid in an instant. "'King Ryuuken has passed away under mysterious circumstances. He is succeeded by his brother-in-law, His Royal Majesty Yhwach, since the prince and rightful heir to the throne has taken his own life in a fit of grief'. Oh, dear. That really is grim news…"

Silence pressed like the deepest ocean all around Uryuu.

The prince who had, in fact, _not_ taken his own life did not dare to raise his gaze from the floor for fear of meeting any of the seven he knew had to be aimed unerringly in his direction. Had they figured it out? Wasn't it too suspicious with him showing up at the same time as the current regime was toppled? Uryuu still hadn't conjured up a compelling lie as his backstory. If they asked him directly whether he was the so-called suicidal prince, he wouldn't be able to sell a performance. Was this the end of the farce? The men he had come to consider as something akin to comrades would truss him up and ship him out to some dungeon where he would be tortured and killed. He had known all along this would happen and he had done nothing to prevent it.

Beset by piercing anxiety, Uryuu jolted upright and fled to Ichigo's room. It was a childish maneuver but he wasn't feeling like the wisest person in the world anyway. He paced back and forth across the small space and fought to keep his mind clear of panic. His limbs became jittery and his heart fluttered from the strain of sustaining control. When his legs went wobbly, Uryuu drooped to perch on the edge of the mattress and cupped his face with trembling hands.

The worst part wasn't fear of pain and death. Not at all. The very worst part was having the tenuous foundation he had begun to rebuild yanked out from under him again, knowing their betrayal would hurt more than anything else they could do to him. Uryuu hadn't wanted to think of them as friends for this exact reason, but he had never been good at restricting his emotions.

He didn't glance up when he heard the door open and close. He glanced up when the bed dipped as someone softly sat beside instead of roughly detaining him. Ichigo's expression was the picture of concern. The Shinigami studied Uryuu for a moment before quietly speaking.

"Are you all right?"

His breath left him in an incredulous huff he couldn't cancel. Pessimism and optimism clashed within him, setting his stomach squirming. Was there still a chance? If the others had let Ichigo come to console him, they either still had doubts or didn't even suspect whom they had been harboring under their roof. Uryuu grit his teeth and prepared a stoic response.

"What kind of question is that? As if royal politics has anything to do with me! Why should I care what's going on in a kingdom I no longer reside in? I only came in here so I wouldn't be interrogated for information I lack. You're all curious, right? You want the specifics. Well, I left before all of that happened so don't ask me anything."

Ichigo's features did not shift sour at his diatribe. If anything, he appeared slightly more sympathetic in its wake.

"I know, Uryuu."

A single, wavering word was all he could muster, "What?"

"I know you're the Quincy prince." He tried so hard to give no reaction. He failed. Ichigo gave a shallow nod and added, "I've known since your second morning here. The crest you keep hidden under your shirt fell out in your sleep. I tucked it back so you wouldn't freak out and run."

Uryuu's hand went to clutch protectively at the concealed royal pendant resting against his chest. "You knew from the beginning!? And yet you never…Do the others know?"

"I haven't said anything to them. They might have figured it out on their own but it wouldn't make a difference. I told you from the day we met: you are safe here. As far as we're concerned, you were always one of us."

Again, his breath punched out of him, but this time it sounded more like a sob than a sigh. Again, he covered his face with his hands, but this time it felt more like clemency than condemnation. Uryuu's eyes stung with sentiment but he held it at bay.

"I thought…I was so sure you would…"

"I'm sorry," Ichigo offered when he didn't finish his fragments, "About your dad. I knew you were the prince but I didn't know why you left the castle. I'm sorry you've been suffering alone this entire time. I'll listen if you want to talk."

Uryuu didn't want to talk but he didn't want to be alone anymore, either. He was tired of feeling so disconnected from everyone. Always standing apart, never moving together. Enduring everything on his own strength was exhausting and having even one person reach out was so relieving he could cry. Nevertheless, he put on a brave façade for Ichigo.

"There's no need for theatrics. I—"

A crack in the mask must have given him away because Uryuu was suddenly enveloped in a gentle hug. He stiffened in surprise, lungs seizing for a critical handful of seconds. Once his body recognized it as an embrace and not an attack, he exhaled. His muscles slowly relaxed and his eyes slid closed. The loose loop of Ichigo's arms tightened a little when Uryuu's lifted to complete the gesture.

And even though _nothing_ was okay, for just a short while it felt like maybe everything could be.

* * *

The hunt that day had been relentless.

Although the weather had finally started to tip toward winter, Uryuu was drenched in sweat and flecked with blood. The Hollow didn't seem to care whether it was cold or hot so long as prey was plentiful. As soon as he and Ichigo returned to the cabin, the prince headed straight for the washroom to rid himself of the muck of melee. He pushed open the door and staggered to a stop because Izuru was already soaking in the tub. Shuuhei sat clothed on the bench beside him, using a dampened rag to scrub his friend's back. Both men paused and looked up to acknowledge Uryuu, who was doing his best not to gape like a fish.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't realize anyone else was back yet. P-please excuse—"

"Relax, nobody's offended. Right, Izuru?"

"Of course not. It was an honest mistake."

"Then, I'll let you two finish." His face ignited at the accidental double entendre. "No! I meant…um…Sorry!"

Reversing too quickly, Uryuu bumped into the frame and winced at the resulting ache in his side.

"I'm almost done," casually commented Izuru. "Do you want him to stick around?"

" _What_?"

"To wash your back," Shuuhei calmly clarified. "I don't mind. We all do this sort of thing for each other often."

He shook his head a tad too vigorously. Whether or not that was a joke, Uryuu was compelled to decline. Nothing against Shuuhei but if anyone was going to do that type of thing, he would prefer Ichi—Oh, he had _not_ thought that. No, he had not! If he hadn't already been blushing, that slip would've triggered one.

"I, uh…The other bathroom, I'll…"

There was no chance he was getting a coherent sentence out under the circumstances. Uryuu left them and practically sprinted to the opposite side of the cabin, knocking this time before entering the vacant washroom. His cheeks were still warm with mortification a few minutes later when he eased into hot water. As far as he knew, no one in the cabin save Byakuya and Kisuke were romantically involved. Perhaps they really were just very, very close friends who were comfortable with nudity. It wasn't beyond the realm of belief. Shinigami culture could've been different from Quincy in that regard. Besides, Uryuu would rather not speculate on his roommates' relationships if he could help it. It was tricky enough making sense of his own on occasion.

As he started washing up, he reflected over how things had been between him and Ichigo of late. Their situation was awkward—it had always been awkward—but less so as the days passed. Ever since Uryuu's secret had been brought to light, a lot of the tension in their encounters had dissipated. He was no longer terrified of voicing a vital detail that could get him assassinated and Ichigo seemed to appreciate the stark decrease in reticence.

Not only him, but all the Shinigami were more accepting and garrulous since Uryuu had stopped playing the brooding enigma. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was part of a team rather than working toward his own goals for no other motive than that was what a prince should do. Here, with these men, he had a clearly defined _purpose_ and that was wholly new to him. Uryuu appreciated it more than he could have imagined and he wasn't sure he would've wanted to go home even if he had the option.

A knock on the door disturbed his musings.

"Yes?" he called to indicate the room was occupied but he was listening if there was an important message. Uryuu didn't think anyone would actually _walk in_ but there Ichigo was, hovering just inside the ajar door wearing an odd expression. Despite soap clouding the water, he diffidently drew his legs in toward his chest.

"Shuuhei and Izuru said you needed some help?" Uryuu's flush made a comeback. Ichigo's tone indicated he was equally baffled by the vague phrasing and embarrassed to have heeded it. "You didn't get hurt when I wasn't watching, did you?"

"No."

"So, you don't need any help?" Uryuu shook his head and Ichigo cursed. They heard snickering in the hall through the open door's narrow gap. "That's it! I'm gonna kill those bastards…"

He turned, preparing to storm out and commit deliberate acts of violence. Uryuu considered that visibility in the room was low since it was past dusk; only the fireplace's glowing coals and a single candle were burning. Plus, his bath really was opaque by that point. The chances that Ichigo could've seen anything even if he tried were exceedingly minimal.

Thus, the reasoning was all very logical when he stopped the man with a hushed murmur of, "Ichigo, wait."

"Yeah?"

"They sent you in here to mess with us, right? Why don't we turn it around on them? They'll be so scandalized if you stay."

Ichigo smiled roguishly. He shut the door, lowered to rest on the bench near the tub, and whispered, "I'm with you. Serves them right for setting us up! But you know, the fact that they would prank you like this goes to show you've been promoted to 'inner circle' now. They love picking on me, too, which is probably why they sent me in here."

"I don't doubt it."

He was also gullible enough to fall for the ploy, Uryuu observed. The only other Shinigami who might have been suckered was Hanatarou. Frankly, that would have been considerably less awkward. Why were they always so _awkward_? He self-consciously resumed his ablutions and tried not to think about how there might have been another rationale behind Izuru and Shuuhei's selection.

A moment later, he couldn't think at all because Ichigo plucked a clean cloth from the shelf and scooted closer to dip it into the water behind Uryuu. He froze as damp fabric slowly smoothed across his skin.

"Might as well lend a hand while I'm here," Ichigo announced in afterthought.

"Y-you don't have to," timidly argued Uryuu, "I can reach."

Likely mistaking protest for propriety, Ichigo ignored him and kept at it. Uryuu didn't have the courage to tell him this was precisely what Shuuhei and Izuru had intended with their evil scheme. The prospect that this activity was genuinely commonplace had him holding his opinions lest he make more of a mockery of himself tonight.

"Don't act as if you hate it, Uryuu. Didn't you have servants in the castle who did this for you?"

"Not since I was a small child," he said, leaning forward a bit to provide an easier angle. "I've been bathing on my own for nearly two whole decades now."

"Is that so?" Ichigo chuckled at his sarcastic boast. "Maybe you're missing out."

Uryuu hugged his knees closer and kept quiet because he couldn't disagree. It felt nice. It always felt nice when Ichigo touched him. He let his eyelids fall as a deep breath was incrementally released. His belated response was a scarcely audible murmur.

"I never said I hated it."

They lapsed into a comfortable hush. Uryuu's chin rested on a knee and he had lost count of the man's careful strokes. The water was beginning to cool but he wasn't ready to rinse and dry just yet. Not until Ichigo's motions shifted the silver chain around his neck. The subtle clink of Quincy pendant drew his attention and he bent forward to regard Uryuu with a serious gaze.

"Are you okay with the way things are in your kingdom? Preliminary reports are suggesting Yhwach is not a kind ruler. Your dad has only been gone a couple months and there have already been incidents of public executions, torture, and heavy taxation of the poor. It goes without saying that he refuses to meet with us under the banner of truce or anything else. The Quincy are mourning the double loss of their king _and_ their prince even though you're not actually dead. Are you really fine with all of that?"

Reluctant to label it sulking, Uryuu mulled over the Shinigami's words in silence for several beats. He fixed his eyes on the flickering firelight across from him instead of the fervent flames in Ichigo's.

"Of course I'm not _fine_ with it! I know my uncle is a tyrant but there is nothing I can do about it."

"Would you take back the crown and lead your people properly if you could?"

"Yes, but a one-man revolt is impossible, Ichigo. There's also the fact that I am not confident in my abilities as a potential monarch. I wasn't expecting to succeed my father for many more years and I am not prepared for the myriad tribulations such a position entails!"

"Nah, I don't believe any of that," he staunchly disagreed. "Young or not, inexperienced or not, you have all the qualifications for the throne and with the right advisors you'd do a fantastic job."

"How would you know anything about it?" demanded Uryuu, finally turning to glare at him.

"I just do. I also have it on good authority that if you wanted to make a major bid for the crown, our king would back you up. We'd even send an army at your side, on the condition that an alliance is forged after the usurper is overthrown." Deathblow delivered, Ichigo abruptly switched subjects, saying, "Anyway, I'll let you enjoy the rest of your bath in privacy. Think about what I've said, Uryuu."

With that, he left the discussion and the room. And he left Uryuu a hell of a lot to process.

* * *

Dawn had just begun to lighten the bedroom when consciousness darkened his mood. Uryuu had been having such a lovely dream that was instantly forgotten the moment he opened his eyes. He was sidled right up against Ichigo. This scenario had never exactly been a rarity, much to Uryuu's perpetual chagrin, but it wasn't usually so bad. There was almost no gap between their bodies and his head was resting on Ichigo's shoulder. Granted it was getting colder as winter set in properly, but this was unacceptable!

He started to scoot backward but was thwarted by an arm draped around his waist. A soft sound of surprise escaped as a bolt of unnamed emotion struck Uryuu at the intimate gesture. Ichigo stirred, quickly recognizing the situation, and removed his arm so the prince could put prudent distance between them.

"Sorry," the Shinigami murmured.

"It was my fault. If I hadn't moved so close to you…"

"No, the blame is mine, Uryuu. I—"

"It was nothing. I take no offense."

Ichigo took a breath like he was going to say something else, but he turned it into a soft laugh instead. They were acting so silly over such a tiny thing that Uryuu had to laugh, too. Sitting up, their smiles easily eliminated brief tension. Their gazes met and held. Humor drained away, replaced with something that felt simultaneously dangerous and exhilarating. Uryuu swallowed loudly in the silence. He had never seen that look on the Shinigami's face before.

A knock at the door broke the unprecedented connection. Ichigo called out permission and Kisuke's enlivened visage appeared in the open frame.

"Good, you're already awake! Come outside, both of you. Hurry!"

Their alarmed questions went unanswered as they rushed to pull on more clothes against nature's chill and chase after him. They dashed through the back door and out to the trio of Hollow cages nestled amid the tree line. The others were already stationed there, milling with various levels of excitement. Uryuu's steps slowed as he realized the cages held not Hollow but humans, clothed in simple white yukata. Byakuya was kneeling beside one of them. For the first time since the prince had met the man, he was wearing an expression other than mild disdain.

"Rukia," he whispered, and the confined young woman reached out a hand to hold his through the bars.

" _Brother_."

"That's Byakuya's little sister," Renji solemnly informed Uryuu. "She became a Hollow two years ago. We've been keeping her in a shed by the river, hoping for this very moment."

"You did it," breathed Ichigo to the scientist responsible for the miracle. "I can't believe you actually did it!"

"The latest cure worked?"

Uryuu had to ask, had to have it confirmed because he had put so much effort into helping perfect it, all the while expecting the same disappointing results. To think his specialized knowledge of Quincy plants could have made the difference all along…

"It's too early to talk in certainties, but the results speak for themselves," replied Kisuke. "Trust in my sincerity when I say I couldn't have done it without you."

Cautiously approaching one of the pens, Uryuu crouched to examine the middle-aged man hunkered in a corner. There was no telling how long he had been a prisoner in his own flesh while the beast that had overtaken him raged. It was a living nightmare full of horrors Uryuu couldn't begin to imagine. The poor soul raised his head and wilted with unabashed appreciation. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

"Thank you," crooned the healed man, "Thank you so much!"

A pang of sympathy and remorse hit the prince hard. Shinigami had maintained for centuries that Hollow were still people, still deserving of compassion in spite of their voracious nature. Meanwhile, Quincy had been ruthlessly obliterating them as if it were a grand sport. Uryuu tallied the number that he alone had felled over the years—if mostly in self-defense—and felt sick to his core. He placed a palm against cold metal and breathed through the guilt. Without glancing away from the former Hollow, Uryuu addressed Kisuke with forced calm.

"When can we release them?"

"Not for a few days, I'm afraid. We must be certain that the reversion will hold."

"Then, can't we…" he tried, wiping moisture from the corners of his eyes before straightening to face the onlookers, "Can't we at least give them food and blankets? We can't leave them like this!"

It was Ichigo who moved forward to grip his shoulder and firmly state, "We won't, Uryuu. We'll take care of them. We will take care of them _all_."

The revelation washed over him with the devastating potency of the rising sun that shone down upon them. This cure would save thousands of lives, maybe millions in the long run. Not only could the Hollow themselves be saved, but there would be no more attacks on humans. With the excuse for their disagreements eliminated, the pointless fighting between Shinigami and Quincy would draw to an end. It was such a catch-all solution that he was amazed both kingdoms' resources hadn't been poured into the project from the beginning. That was probably because no one had seriously believed it was possible. Only these seven Shinigami who had given everything to the cause, and their optimistic king.

Yet, it was a solution Uryuu knew his uncle would not embrace. So much of Quincy culture and infrastructure revolved around hunting Hollow that change would mean razing and rebuilding everything from the ground up. It would take decades of diligence that Yhwach would never abide. All he desired was power, not progress. Leaving him to his own devices meant Uryuu was condemning his people to a slow demise. That was a type of cowardice to which he would _never_ succumb.

He stared directly into Ichigo's eyes and declared, "I'll do it. I'll take back the throne."

A round of startled murmurs swept through the gathered warriors. Whether or not they had known he was the prince, the truth was out now. Uryuu looked at each man in turn, challenging any to dispute his decision. Not one among them uttered a word of opposition.

"Then, I will stand with you," vowed Ichigo, lowering his arm to adopt a more formal stance. "Anything you need, Uryuu, it's yours."

Indulging a fleeting smile as thanks, he sobered and projected his voice to the other six men, "What of the rest? Would you all lend your strength to a Quincy for the good of both kingdoms? Would you support a fledgling prince if it meant toppling a mad king?"

Their silence was crushing and Uryuu started to waver. Was the idea too reckless after all? Then Byakuya relinquished his sister's hand to gracefully rise. All eyes swerved to fix on him, the most senior and influential member of the group.

"You will make a far better king," the nobleman somberly said, "Than any before you. The Kuchiki clan is in your debt."

"I want to help, too," proclaimed Hanatarou, "Any way I can!"

Izuru respectfully bowed and swore, "My blade is yours."

"Of course I'll back my favorite assistant," chirped Kisuke.

Renji shrugged. "Count me in."

Last but not least, Shuuhei clapped a hand to Uryuu's back and grinned. "You just won yourself an army. Now, come inside and eat your breakfast, future king. You'll need all the strength you can get."

"I think this calls for a celebration," announced Kisuke as everyone but Byakuya headed into the cabin. "Why don't we take the day off?"

Shuuhei jumped on board, saying, "I'll prepare a feast so delectable you'll bawl like babes! Maybe I'll even make a special Quincy dish for our honored guest."

He winked at Uryuu, who affably returned, "In that case, allow me to teach you a few of my favorite recipes."

"First, would you like to help me bring some supplies out to our patients?" Hanatarou asked. Uryuu nodded and the healer instructed, "Wait here and I'll grab them."

While he waited, Ichigo came to stand before him in the hall everyone else had already left. He reached out to give Uryuu's hand a light squeeze of solidarity.

"You can do this. You can change both of our worlds for the better. I've known it from the moment we met."

"So dramatic," he teased Ichigo, twisting a wrist to grasp his hand in return. "What use is a 'lost kitten' without his Shinigami?"


	14. Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami Pt4

Part 4

* * *

The gears of war were grinding quickly in preparation for the auspicious clash that would be initiated at spring's first thaw. A constant stream of missives was exchanged between the cabin and the Shinigami kingdom, meticulously planning the insurrection against Yhwach. Fortunately, Ichigo had been right when he'd said the Shinigami king would be amenable to the idea. They had already launched an underground campaign designed to win Quincy hearts for their forsaken prince, spreading rumors of his survival and the events leading up to his exile, as well as news of the Hollow cure he'd helped cultivate. The large scale logistics of which were still being worked out but things were looking positive.

In the meantime, Uryuu and the seven Shinigami had switched from felling Hollow to containing and treating them whenever possible. Shelters were being set up in the kingdom proper to monitor and reintegrate the cured. As a consequence of this philanthropy, each day seemed brighter than the last. The future had begun to take on a fragile, golden cast that bolstered Uryuu's motivation to do whatever he could to see it arrive in spite of inherent fears.

Yet, the sunny outlook didn't keep that fear from occasionally disturbing his sleep.

Uryuu blinked wearily as consciousness was rudely thrust upon him. Another reenactment of his father's death scene faded from the forefront as he took in his location. It was just a manifestation of his anxiety over the confrontation to come that generated the nightmares, he knew, but that didn't make them any less unnerving. The warm weight of Ichigo's loose hold on him, however, did wonders to calm Uryuu from the inside out. He gently moved the man's arm and sat up in the darkness. Ichigo was a constant source of strength and comfort but the prince knew better than to rely on him for his own sense of emotional wellbeing, no matter how tempting the prospect could be. It was good to have companions, but foolish to depend on them for everything.

He sighed at himself a moment later when he realized he was staring wistfully at Ichigo's relaxed profile. Again.

The sound of hushed voices carried through the closed door. Climbing out of bed, Uryuu sneaked into the hall and listened curiously, wondering who else would be up at this offensive hour. It was Byakuya and Kisuke in the common area, which was stationed between their opposing rooms. He peeked around the corner and spotted the two men standing close together beside the window. A delicate shaft of moonlight illuminated the private scene and Uryuu understood he had no right to observe them like this. Respectful consideration was easily overpowered by intrigue.

"Tomorrow?" the scientist asked.

"Rukia is waiting for me," reminded Byakuya, "And I will be more useful there, where I can personally oversee the war efforts. Besides that, you don't need me here anymore, now that you have your cure."

"We both know I didn't request you for bodyguard services alone."

It was the most serious Kisuke's voice had ever sounded. They stared into each other's eyes, a thousand things unsaid. A thousand more communicated without words. Uryuu's hand tightened where it clutched the curved archway. Their love was deeper than appearances ever conveyed, the proof of it streaming from the tension in their gaze. This was the goodbye they would not show to anyone else. The only one they would truly have regardless of what would be said tomorrow.

The tension burst like a shimmering bubble as Byakuya reached out to pull Kisuke into a yearning kiss. Uryuu covered his soundless gasp with a palm and stood transfixed as the reality of their feelings was ardently revealed. They kissed like it meant absolutely everything to them, like one more second of the embrace could be both shining gift and darkest torment.

Unwilling to intrude an instant longer, Uryuu pivoted to head straight for the bedroom and softly shut the door behind him. He paused there, propped against its solid surface, and shuddered through a conflagration of emotions. Their farewell only emphasized the fact that he would inevitably have one of his own. Assuming they both made it out of the war alive, he and Ichigo would also have to part ways. If Uryuu was to be king, he couldn't exactly hang around at the cabin or spend much time in the Shinigami kingdom just to be near his friend. Likewise, Ichigo couldn't be expected to abandon his role there to reside among Quincy.

It _hurt_ , the notion that this peaceful cohabitation had to end. Glancing over to watch the man's untroubled slumber, Uryuu wrapped arms around his aching middle and sank to the cold stone tiles. He had been naïve to pour so much of himself into the relationships he'd built there. These Shinigami were never meant to become precious people to him, but they had. The prince would miss them dearly, and it would be flagrant dishonesty to pretend he wouldn't miss Ichigo most of all. Worst case scenario, if they never saw each other again…

A plaintive, broken noise was muffled against the press of his fist. Too loud in the quiet space, it roused Ichigo. He immediately noticed Uryuu's absence in the bed and sat up to look around. Brown eyes found his unerringly even in the darkness.

"Uryuu, what's wrong?"

The concerned lilt in Ichigo's sleep-roughened voice implied every last one of the prince's painful thoughts were plastered plainly across his countenance. Uryuu schooled his features into something less traumatized and cleared his constricting throat.

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

Ignoring the advice, Ichigo came to kneel before his slumped form and insisted, "Tell me what's bothering you."

"I said it's nothing: a random episode of stupidity."

"'Stupidity'? You?" His eyebrows dipped in a prelude to the obstinacy he favored. "I can tell it's important. Just hurry up and say it so we can go back to sleep."

Uryuu shook his head and frowned. It was too embarrassing. He didn't know how to phrase something he couldn't even properly comprehend. Why did Ichigo mean so much, enough to shatter his insides at the mere thought of losing him? It was pathetic and perplexing and far too mortifying to vocalize. Transforming that aggravating mixture into protective anger was effortless.

"Mind your own business," he ordered, shoving at Ichigo's shoulders. He caught Uryuu's wrists and moved a little closer instead. "Let go!"

"No, _you_ let go." His tone hardened with barely contained irritation. "Let go of this stubborn idea that you have to be the strongest person in the world who doesn't need anyone else. It's starting to get insulting! Do you still not trust me?"

Shame was promptly added to the list of emotions Uryuu didn't want to deal with just then. His cheeks flared with it and he yanked free of Ichigo's grip with a snarl at the ready.

"I _hate it_ when you do this, Shinigami! I can't wait 'til this is over so I can finally be rid of you!"

Ichigo reared back as though slapped. Half a heartbeat transpired and Uryuu sorely regretted it, the biggest lie he'd ever told. He refused to look at the man, to let him see how much it took not to beg forgiveness for the barb. Rising with eerie equanimity, Ichigo settled back onto the bed and left him to his misery as demanded. Uryuu couldn't hear the Shinigami's breathing over the strident rasp of his own, but the riled tide of it was reflected in his moving chest.

The prince thought he could be strong. That he didn't need anyone else. It was too terrifying to accept any less. Yet, as he stared at Ichigo the ire he had summoned in defense dwindled to ash, replaced with a biting contrition. Uryuu carefully crawled onto the mattress beside him and faced the wall. He half-hoped his whispered apology would go unheard, absorbed by the wood panel and the blanket he pulled up to his chin.

Except Ichigo heard it and called his name so that Uryuu would roll over and face him. With great reluctance, he did. Ichigo was regarding him with solemn eyes that retained none of the annoyance he had just displayed. Uryuu's heart stuttered giddily as he realized that meant he was already forgiven.

"If you're worried about the battle, don't be." Ah, he'd been wondering when they would have this discussion. Ichigo showed him a confident smile and declared, "With us as your generals and the Quincy citizens on your side, there's no way we can lose!"

"Generals?"

"Yeah, my…my king agreed to split up the army and give us command of the battalions. We'll get our orders from you and relay them to the troops."

" _My orders_!? Ichigo, I can't lead an army!"

"Well, you won't be alone," he pointed out. "All of us will be working together, discussing strategies and figuring out how to proceed as a group."

"Even so, I am not qualified—"

"This is _your_ show, Uryuu. We're just here to lend you the power to see it through."

Pausing in contemplation, he considered Ichigo's words. It made sense that the Shinigami king was deferring to the Quincy heir in this case. Anything else could be perceived as an attempt at domination under guise of goodwill rather than altruistic aid. The only peaceful way to deplete Yhwach's soldiers' numbers was to give them a reason to defect. His people weren't pleased with the new king and likely suspected foul play in relation to the old. The promise of Uryuu restored as rightful ruler sowed the seeds of doubt and disloyalty, giving them a fair shot at preventing as much bloodshed as possible. And Uryuu really wasn't looking forward to sending Shinigami swords at his own people if he could help it.

Ichigo read these musings in his mind as if he had spoken them aloud. They talked and argued and assured for hours. It wasn't until the grey twilight of impending dawn diffused through the window that they ran out of things to say. In spite of his exhaustion, Uryuu felt much lighter for the lengthy discourse. It didn't erase the sorrow of their ultimate farewell, but it lifted a piece of the overall burden from his back. Just enough to grant him room to breathe.

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. Their hands were almost touching atop the blanket shared between them. If Uryuu were to stretch out his fingertips, they would graze those resting beside. Ichigo's eyes were closed and had been for several minutes, so it was not unthinkable that he was already asleep. He would never know the difference if a light grasp was briefly stolen. The security of stealth made him bold. Warmth from that unsuspecting hand traveled from Uryuu's all the way up to his face, half-obscured by the unruly splay of dark hair. It was like touching sunlight made manifest and he sighed shakily at how ridiculously soothing the subtle contact felt.

Then he sucked the sigh back in because Ichigo's fingers slid to interlace with his in a more deliberate clasp, their palms fitting seamlessly together. A faint smile spread, though his eyes remained closed. Uryuu let his own fall shut and tightened the hold as much as he dared.

* * *

Their hands were still twined when he awoke for the second time that day. It was much brighter with early afternoon light beaming into the room through the naked window. Uryuu flinched from it as his eyes widened in surprise. They had both overslept and no one had bothered to wake them! He made an unhappy noise as he grudgingly disengaged their linked hands to get out of bed and leave the room.

No one else was left in the cabin, judging by the resounding lack of activity therein. Apparently, the other Shinigami had deemed them deserving of a late start and left ahead. Shuuhei had even set aside leftovers from breakfast on the dining table. A pristine white napkin covered two pastries on an immaculate white plate. Lighthearted fanfare due to the fact that these were a Quincy recipe Uryuu had taught him some weeks ago.

He smiled in appreciation of the considerate gesture. Although his palate was not overfond of sweets—unlike Ichigo's—one glimpse of the fruit-filled buns had him brimming with nostalgia. From the first taste, the prince made quick work of devouring the morsel. It was just as he'd remembered it, aside from a hint of something tangy he couldn't quite place. Slightly under ripe berries, most likely. Still, it made for a fine breakfast and he was eager to share it with Ichigo, whether or not he preferred more sleep.

"Ichigo," he called across the cabin, "Come and see what Shuuhei…"

His voice failed him as he was racked with sudden pain and disorientation. Uryuu gripped the edge of the table just to stay upright because his heart was palpitating riotously between his ribs, brain bombarded with phantom pangs and strange stimuli. He could have sworn the cabin's familiar colors swirled and blurred from one second to the next. His breath grew labored and erratic to match his jumping pulse.

Glancing at the benign place setting, Uryuu belatedly noticed iridescent white stitching at the corner of the napkin's white cloth. It was an ornately monogrammed 'Y'.

Fingernails scrabbled at his swollen throat as if he could scratch the searing poison from his very veins. He had one more moment of clarity to deduce several key bits of information. One, Yhwach had somehow located and sent an assassin after him, eschewing force for subterfuge. Two, there was enough essence of Nightshade—specifically belladonna—in that pastry's jelly to kill him within minutes. Three, he was going to die choking on his own blood and there was nothing he could do about it.

Then he collapsed to the floor as his mind blanked, eyes rolling back as he began to convulse from the potent toxin's vicious attack on his nervous system. Dimly, he heard Ichigo shuffling down the hall toward him.

"I guess we slept in pretty late tod— _Uryuu_!" The Shinigami was across the room and crouched at his side in a blink, or maybe that was the delirium. "What's wrong—what the hell is happening to you? Uryuu!?"

Lungs spasmed. Chest ached. Every sip of air was a Sisyphean struggle. Somehow, he managed to reach out and clench his fingers into the bottomless black of Ichigo's shihakusho and draw him closer. One word, that was all he needed to manage. But his jaw was locking up and his tongue was going numb. It took every last bit of coordination to stammer the string of disjointed syllables that could save his life.

"Ph-physo…s-stigm-mine!"

"What? Uryuu, I don't know what that means!" he cried, clinging to his quaking form. "What does that mean!?"

Ah, it was worth a shot.

An uncanny sense of calm sank into him as Uryuu's body became detached from his brain. The scene gradually greyed out and Ichigo's frantic calls died off. The hand holding his robes fell limply at the prince's side. It was the last thing he felt before he began to drift, as though reclined in a canoe following a broad river's tranquil current. He knew he was dying, if not already dead. The only consolation was that he might get to see his family again.

But Uryuu wasn't ready to see them yet. He wasn't ready to leave when he had so much more to do! What about divesting his people of their despotic sovereign? What about purging the Hollow affliction for good? What about establishing the Shinigami armistice? What about thanking the seven men who had inadvertently served as his saving grace? What about _Ichigo_?

The river morphed celestial, a succession of sparkling stars sweeping past as he floated toward the heavens. Uryuu resisted their magnetism. He fought to stay rooted to his own planet even as a million others beckoned him to their diverse domains. The only rock he cared about was the one that he'd been born on.

Thinking of his birth brought his parents to mind. Kanae and Ryuuken materialized before him and reached out with loving arms. Even his father seemed glad to see him. Souken appeared next, and the three encircled the prince with serene welcome. Uryuu was filled with profound joy and deep sadness in contrary tandem. Although he loved them all so very much, he knew he didn't belong with them. Not yet.

Slipping free of their tender snare, he fixed his eyes on the shrinking globe and willed himself to return. The trajectory changed. His spirit plummeted through the vast void toward that vivid blue expanse. He felt it swallow him up like a churning ocean and slingshot him back to that fateful forest. The cabin swung into view and he darted straight through its slanted roof to see Ichigo bent low over him, unmoving.

Inky darkness exploded all around him. Pain, cold, tingling aftershocks of the poison. Pulse pounding, warmth surrounding. Skin dotted with perspiration and sprinkled with gooseflesh. Air trickled into empty lungs. The scent of wood and soap and someone. Moisture on his cheek and blood sluggishly dripping from his nose.

Uryuu opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was spiky orange. Ichigo's hair tickling his forehead. Ichigo's arms holding him. Ichigo's lips pressed against his. The taste of poison and antidote merged on his tongue was bitter, but the kiss was so sweet. Uryuu lifted trembling fingertips to caress the face meeting his and the man jerked back as though stung by the electric numbness lingering there. Ichigo's eyes were wide and watery. Uryuu felt his welling to match.

"Ichigo."

He drew the prince into a tight hug and hoarsely spoke into the curve of his shoulder, "Oh, thank god, Uryuu! I thought I'd lost you…I thought I'd fucking _lost you_."

Hugging back as well as he was able, Uryuu marveled over what must have happened while he was gone—or perhaps just hallucinating. Ichigo had finally parsed his message about the medicine past the panic and fetched a corresponding phial from Kisuke's extensive collection. Since Uryuu had been seizing, Ichigo would have had no choice but to transmit the limited liquid via his own mouth while he held the prince still with both hands. All under an extremely constrained, literal deadline. A dedicated friend, indeed.

Ichigo sniffled and raised up to stare at him as if seeking reassurance of his recovery. Uryuu wanted to tell him it would be fine now. If he was already conscious, that signified the toxin had been neutralized entirely and the damage was minimal. Yet, he was too busy staring back in unmitigated awe because there were tears sluicing indolently from the corners of his eyes. Ichigo looked so shaken, so _devastated_ by the close-call. But that couldn't be right.

There was a faint stain of red and yellow on Ichigo's lower lip, the respectively sugary and acrid remnants coating the inside of their mouths. Uryuu's gaze was drawn to the vibrant splash of color. The recent sense-memory of their kiss replayed in his mind. It had only been an emergency procedure. Necessary.

So, why was Ichigo dipping down to do it again?

Granted, Uryuu's head was still fuzzy from the belladonna's trademark havoc but he was fairly sure the delirium had passed. The sensual drag of his Shinigami's tinted lips threatened to bring it right back. He could formulate no rationale for refusing the kiss, so he didn't. Ichigo hummed softly to feel him actively returning it instead. The chaste connection stirred all sorts of sentiments within Uryuu. It felt like being catapulted into the ether and crashing back into himself all over again. It felt like desire and fondness and _need_ at the same time. It was overwhelming. He never wanted it to end.

Ichigo withdrew, breaking the spell, and helped guide him over to rest on the couch. They gazed at each other, seconds converging into minutes. There was so much to say. Neither of them uttered a single word.

* * *

Snow coated the barren landscape and leached any remaining color from the hibernating forest around them. A frigid wind stirred layered clothes and tousled short hair. The late afternoon sun was a ghost of former glory, tucked behind a curtain of dense coasting clouds and already tilting toward ceding to dusk. Winter was on its last legs but had lashed out in the night for one more tempestuous blizzard. Almost as if it had been feeding off the prince's spite towards a certain Shinigami, feigning oblivion to the glares aimed in his direction all throughout their patrol. If Uryuu's crunching footsteps were a tad more militant than usual, Ichigo wasn't about to mention it.

It had been four days since the assassination attempt. Uryuu had taken the first two off from Hollow searches to recuperate and Ichigo had stuck to him like overprotective glue. The others had been stunned to hear about it, justifiably mystified as to how Yhwach knew when and where to leave the tampered food for his nephew to find while almost totally alone. Kisuke's speculation had been along the lines of sorcery and Uryuu couldn't rule it out. All they could do was take measures to guard against another invasion. The time to make their stand against his uncle was very nearly nigh anyway.

The prince wasn't worried about it; Yhwach wasn't the type to try the same thing twice and Uryuu certainly wouldn't fall victim to the same spineless plot a second time. No, what kept him up nights lately was Ichigo's inexplicable silence with regards to a specific subject.

They still hadn't talked about the kiss. Not once. Not even a little. Which was why the prince found himself scowling at the man who seemed to think pretending it hadn't happened was a feasible coping mechanism. He had been patiently waiting for the Shinigami to bring it up so they could figure things out like sensible adults, but it was evident now that eventuality just wasn't on the horizon. Uryuu stopped in the center of a small clearing and folded his arms under the thick white cloak he had masterfully tailored from spare yukata. The trailing hem of Ichigo's standard issue black cloak swished across fresh snow as he paused to toss an assessing glance over his shoulder.

"We need to talk."

" _Here_?" he asked with a dubious wave of his arm at the inhospitable surroundings. Uryuu shrugged. "Can't it at least wait until we get back to the cabin?"

"So you can use the others to dodge and deflect like you have been all week? I think not."

"But what if the Hollow—"

"You know as well as I that their ranks have been thinning substantially since everyone has been working so hard to distribute the cure. We haven't seen a single Hollow all day!"

Expression souring, Ichigo turned away but didn't continue onward. "Fine. What did you want to talk about?"

"You know what!" Outrage at his evasion sharpened Uryuu's tone. "Why did you kiss me, Ichigo?"

The Shinigami winced, actually _winced_ like the question physically hurt him. He shuffled his feet and scrubbed at his hair. Gazed off into the distance. Adjusted the angle of the sword sheathed at his hip. Uryuu was practically boiling by the time Ichigo sighed and faced him.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I wouldn't ask if it were," growled the prince. He was _this_ close to smacking the idiot.

"I kissed you because I care about you, of course. I…" Ichigo idly nudged a chunk of ice with his boot, mumbling, "I love you. And I would have told you sooner except I'm sort of the prince of Shinigami, so. Yeah. My dad is King Isshin. Kinda complicates things."

He finally raised his eyes and snorted to witness Uryuu's flabbergasted expression because: yes, that very much did complicate matters. _All_ of it. Also, Ichigo being royalty explained so much. From his inordinate battle prowess to the deference and respect the others had periodically shown toward their youngest associate. It had to have been a huge factor in swaying the king to aid Uryuu's plight, as well. It made so much sense he couldn't comprehend how he hadn't come to that conclusion on his own.

Except what kind of king would send a prince into the meat grinder that was their Hollow hunting mission? Knowing Ichigo, however, it had probably been his idea and he wouldn't have taken 'too perilous' for an answer.

"You should have told me! Deceptive bastard! Don't you think that's something I have a right to know?"

A gloved hand rubbed at his temples in silent protest of Uryuu's volume. Ichigo's eyes narrowed as he said, "This is why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd throw a tantrum."

"Well, excuse me but this seems like a very tantrum-worthy revelation! All this time you've been hiding arguably the most important facet of your identity! What am I supposed to think? How do I know anything you've told me was true?"

Swiftly stepping forward, he heatedly returned, "I have _never_ lied to you, Uryuu. Not once. Besides, aren't you being a tiny bit hypocritical? You didn't tell me about your heritage, either! I just happened to find out thanks to a wardrobe malfunction!"

"That was different! I thought you all would torture and murder me; it was self-defense!" Pausing to gather his fraying wits, Uryuu frowned and accused, "Maybe I can understand not mentioning it at first, but trying to keep it secret forever is unforgivable!"

"No, what's unforgivable is how delusional you can be! If I had told you four months ago that I was also a prince, you wouldn't have had anything to do with me, right? If I had told you two months ago, same result. Last week? Forget it!" Uryuu's ready response faltered in the wake of hard truths. Ichigo loomed into his personal space and goaded, "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me it wouldn't have mattered."

"It wasn't your choice! I deserved the chance to make up my own mind. Now it's too late because I…"

The precipice of an irrevocable confession jutted out before him. Uryuu was not brave enough to take that leap. But Ichigo was.

"In case you missed it earlier, I'll say it again: _I love you_. I didn't want to deceive you but I couldn't afford to give you that chance only to watch you pull away. It would fucking destroy me."

An annoyingly large amount of anger vanished at Ichigo's earnest monologue. Uryuu was still mad, but it didn't really change how he felt about the man. While his royal station would have been a deal-breaker when they'd first met, it really was too late to cut ties at this point. Uryuu was hopelessly enamored. On some level he'd known it from just two short weeks after meeting, when Ichigo had hugged and accepted him, princehood and all.

He let folded arms fall to his sides and defeatedly mumbled, "I might have…similar feelings toward you."

Uryuu's gaze shot to his and away, arrow-rapid, but it was enough to gauge his reaction. Surprised, pleased, and tentatively hopeful.

"Then, does that mean…?"

The question went unfinished and unanswered but his shy silence was confirmation enough. He wondered if Ichigo would try to kiss him again. Uryuu wanted him to, _so badly_ , but it didn't happen. It pissed him off to think that this moment could turn into another scene they wouldn't discuss. Another life-altering epiphany that didn't really change anything. It meant too much to let it become an awkward memory.

His fingers curled into that midnight cloak and he jerked Ichigo forward with a soft growl of aggravation. If they were ever going to get anywhere, of course Uryuu would have to be the one to see it through. The kiss lit a mighty blaze within him from the first few seconds, such that he wouldn't have been shocked to hear the snow steaming all around them. Ichigo made a choking noise under the unexpected assault and gripped hard at his upper arms. The Shinigami used the hold to push him back and Uryuu scowled in bafflement.

"What is wrong with you—dropping a confession like that and then rejecting me? Is this a joke to you?"

"No! It's just that you were _poisoned_ several days ago and this location is…"

The depth of Ichigo's idiocy knew no bounds. Uryuu skewered him with a flat stare and snapped, "No more excuses. If you love me, then prove it!"

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have said those words. The phrase flipped a switch in Ichigo that had his features hardening with determination and a touch of feral impulse. Next thing Uryuu knew, he was pressed against the nearest tree clinging to the dregs of coherency because the Shinigami wasn't playing around anymore. Ichigo was putting _everything_ he had into the kiss, all the things he'd felt but couldn't express until now. It was already overwhelming but Uryuu wanted more.

His bow was creaking dangerously, the wood threatening to give, and he was entirely unsatisfied with his lack of proper mobility pinned against a trunk. Uryuu suddenly shoved him backward as hard as he could. Ichigo gave a surprised grunt as he hit the cold ground with a soft _whumpf_ , powdery snow exploding outward all around him. Seeing Uryuu flinging off his bow and quiver, he did not complain of the rough treatment when he guessed what would happen next.

Ichigo stole a haggard breath as he was straddled and kissed like his mouth was the source of Uryuu's salvation. A series of short, hungry kisses were exchanged between them, interspersed with matching moans. He couldn't get enough. Every kiss, every touch just made him want the next one more. When the scabbard of Ichigo's sword posed a minor impediment to his access, he jerked back to attack the belt holding it affixed. The Shinigami groaned to feel Uryuu yanking the belt free and tossing it out of the way before diving back in.

Somehow, the meeting of tongues grew hotter with each renewed attempt, despite the cold they could no longer feel. Their gloves were discarded and Ichigo's hands were scrabbling at his outfit, fighting to slip beneath for a hint of bare skin. Uryuu heard the rip of a seam and didn't bat an eye because he was showing Ichigo's attire the same disregard. Clothes never seemed so frustratingly unnecessary as when they were concealing his lover's body from his touch.

 _Finally_ , the moment came that they grasped each other at the crux of their passion and paused to savor the achievement. Uryuu's kiss slowed and stopped. He leaned back to stare down at Ichigo as he gave a gentle, testing stroke and got one in kind. Such a subtle caress was impossibly electric. Their breathing was taxed by it even as their eyes glazed with eagerness.

There were no silly smiles or flirtatious winks offered in the brief interim. They both wore very serious expressions because this wasn't frivolous or fun. In a way, this meant _everything_ to them. More than Hollow, more than the crown, more than the perpetual war between their kingdoms. In this moment, nothing else mattered more than unleashing the yearning they had both been subverting for so long. Recognition of the shared sentiment flitted between locked gazes.

Ichigo made an intolerant noise in the back of his throat and pulled Uryuu into an unrelenting kiss. There was nothing casual about their actions, their thoughts, their intent. He was ravenous with a craving only Ichigo could slake. From their lips to their hips to their fingertips, they begged and demanded and reveled in the connection.

Uryuu was so angry they had waited until now. He was so happy they had gotten to this point at all. Never in his wildest fantasies would he have imagined falling for a Shinigami. But the companionable swirl of their black and white cloaks as they rocked together emphasized the implausible union. He needed to say it. Needed to declare it in a solemn oath before he missed his chance, before it wouldn't mean quite as much.

"I love you, Ichigo," he withdrew just far enough for eyes to meet, " _Of course_ I do. How could I not?"

Astonishment was a fleeting thing, easily overtaken by elation. Yet, even that was eclipsed by desire as they neared the summit together. Uryuu was ready to leap this time. He didn't care what awaited on the other side. Whether or not it was foolish to take this for themselves when they knew it would be so hard to hold on to, he had to try. He buried his face in the bend of Ichigo's neck as his heart threatened to burst right out of his chest. It felt so good to be enveloped in his arms, his grasp, his warmth. Uryuu shivered to hear his name murmured hoarsely, urgently. His hips bucked that much faster for it.

A sharp inhale marked the pinnacle, but it felt less like falling and more like _soaring_. Like all the constraints borne of stress, anxiety, and fear were shed as he ascended above his own troubles to a place of peace and pleasure where he and Ichigo connected on a higher level with each other than with anyone else they had ever known. In that ephemeral moment, Uryuu understood what love truly meant—what it _could_ mean if they were brave enough to lose themselves in its intricacies.

The nudge of a close-mouthed kiss to his temple coaxed him from the fading reverie. He raised his head to meet Ichigo's lips purposefully, desperately, because one sample of what they had been missing only made him hungrier for it. Yet, to Uryuu's immediate and profound dismay, the prince gently disengaged. Ichigo took one look at his frustrated expression and broke into a wide grin.

"Have you made it your personal mission to drive me utterly _insane_ , Shinigami?"

Shaking his head, he chuckled and replied, "No, but we need to get back to the cabin as soon as possible."

"Why?" demanded Uryuu, half-suspecting another attempt at emotional evasion.

He gasped as Ichigo clutched him quite possessively and said, "Because I am nowhere near done proving my love, Uryuu. I want to touch every single inch of your body—not just the gaps between hems—and when I touch you, I want you to feel _hot_. Not cold."

The reminder made him realize it wasn't just the intensity in Ichigo's voice making him shiver. Uryuu glanced around at the white-washed landscape and decided, not for the first time, that winter was definitely his least favorite season.

"What of the others? They're bound to notice—"

"Let them gossip about us, I don't care. As long as they don't _interrupt_."

* * *

The days that followed were some of the best of Uryuu's life. He had never been so resentful of the sleep that robbed them of precious time better spent awake together. Their duties were shamelessly abandoned for the sake of relishing each moment since they had abandoned platonic pretense. No one bothered berating them for it when the war was so close at hand. Rather, the other Shinigami were content to snicker and tease during the rare instances he and Ichigo weren't off on their own somewhere. Neither of the princes minded the mockery when they were focused on much more enjoyable pursuits than group conversation.

Yet, it was well known that all good things had an end and their brief honeymoon was no exception to the rule.

King Isshin's army had mobilized as soon as the weather turned favorable. It had taken the soldiers four days of travel to rendezvous with those waiting at the cabin and two more to reach the Quincy border beyond. The few Hollow they had encountered along the way were captured and treated before being escorted back to the Shinigami kingdom for recovery. They had set up camp less than a morning's march from the citadel because tomorrow was sure to be a hard day for everyone involved.

Uryuu had never seen so much black in one place. The traditional Shinigami battle gear blended well with the darkness cloaking the forest all around them. Having tailored a replica of his native attire for the occasion, the Quincy prince stood out starkly in pristine white set aglow by the fire roaring before him. He sat on one of several supply crates placed around the heating centerpiece discussing last-minute strategy with Shuuhei and Izuru—less because the plan needed revisiting and more because it kept him from the brink of a minor panic attack.

"There are several secret passages in and out of the city," Uryuu told two of his generals. "Some of them will be guarded but all it will take is one or two soldiers to slip through and open a gate for us at the right moment."

"I'll pick a handful of our stealthiest from the special forces unit," said Shuuhei. "Be sure to mark all the entrances on our map."

Nodding compliance, the prince continued, "They will be expecting us. I've been spotting fresh tracks of Quincy scouts all afternoon. Although a camisado maneuver is unlikely, we should keep sentries posted around the camp until morning."

"Already done," assured Izuru.

Glancing toward a cluster of his compatriots, Shuuhei added, "Most of these guys have been through this a couple times. They know better than to be taken by surprise in the middle of the night."

"Glad to hear it. Just make sure they don't rush in until I give the order. If we have any chance of forging an armistice with my people, I must speak to them before weapons are drawn."

"You're not the only one hoping for peace. No one here wants a bloodbath."

The words came from a female Shinigami leaned against a pile of rice sacks, staring up at the stars. An older man standing beside her grunted in agreement. Izuru smiled sadly and offered further insight.

"We're tired of fighting. It's been so long since the feud began most of us can't remember who started it. So, don't think you're only doing this to help your people, Uryuu. If you become the leader we know you can be, both nations will thank you for it."

He hesitated to respond when nothing he could say would be as meaningful to them as that statement was to him. Fortunately, he was spared the trouble since Ichigo walked over to address him.

"Can I talk to you? Privately?"

"Uh, yes," Uryuu awkwardly agreed, "Of course."

Shuuhei raised an eyebrow, Izuru's smile shifted into a smirk, and from the open flap of a nearby tent Renji could be heard laughing because it was a phrase Ichigo had been known to use when he wanted to get Uryuu alone for a half hour or so. This wasn't _that_ —he could tell by the tone of his voice—but denying it would only convince them it was.

He rose to follow Ichigo a short ways into the woods. Far enough that softened speech would not be overheard but close enough that the firelight danced dimly over their skin through the bright green buds of new leaves. They turned to face each other fully and a familiar pulse of happiness spread to warm Uryuu from the inside out. The odd phenomenon occurred almost every time he looked at Ichigo but it was too embarrassing to mention.

"I wanted to wait 'til everything was over before doing this but I can't quit thinking about it. There's no way I'll be able to concentrate on the fight unless I ask you now."

"Ask me wh—"

"Marry me, Uryuu." The warmth suffusing him blazed to hear a completely unexpected proposal. When he didn't answer, Ichigo's nervousness made itself known in the spirited rambling that followed. "I've thought about this for a long time. I even wrote to my dad and he's fine with it. Actually, his letter made it sound like he's almost as excited as me. It may not be the most practical way to go since we're both men but I don't care about not having an heir if it means we can stay together. And what better way to unite our kingdoms? We could lead by example. Switch castles every other season and—"

"Ichigo, stop. Please just…stop talking for a minute." He touched fingers to forehead and willed racing thoughts to slow. "You had to ask me this on the eve of battle?"

The Shinigami prince exhaled audibly as tension drained from his posture. "I was so worried you'd say 'no' right away."

"I haven't said 'yes', either."

"But you will, won't you? I'll just keep asking 'til you do." Stepping forward and curving a hand behind his neck to hold him close, Ichigo stole a series of quick kisses as he whispered, "Marry me because we don't want to be miserable for the rest of our lives. Marry me because we can accomplish so much more together than apart. Marry me because I can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else. Marry me because I love you."

By the end of it he was dying to say yes but one thing kept him quiet. He pushed Ichigo back and argued, "Aren't you getting ahead of yourself? The battle is yet to be decided and it's foolish to plan for a future we may never see."

"Is it foolish to be hopeful? To have a shared dream that gives us the strength to get through this?"

"There is no guarantee that both of us will even survive tomorrow!"

"We will. I know we will because I'll be watching your back and you'll be watching mine."

Turning away on an agitated sigh, Uryuu muttered, "That's precisely the problem."

"What do you mean?"

He tried to head back to camp, unwilling to broach that complicated subject, but Ichigo moved to block his escape. The expression he wore declared Uryuu would not be allowed to run this time. It was too important to avoid…but it was going to hurt.

"I can't put you above my people," he snapped, bitter for being forced to say it aloud. "I won't. They must remain top priority even if it means sacrificing my life and my happiness for theirs."

Paling in light of that declaration, Ichigo did not respond immediately. He frowned and stared at Uryuu for a long moment. Finally, a subtle change stole over his demeanor and he nodded.

"Fine. I can accept that. I'd feel the same in your situation."

"Good. I'm glad you unders—"

"But you're out of your mind if you think I'd let you die," Ichigo fervently finished. He clasped one of Uryuu's hands and vowed, "If anyone's getting sacrificed, it's me. Send me in to fight your crazy uncle. Just think of me as…your Champion."

The notion was simultaneously absurd, charming, and funny all at once. He shook his head even as he smiled and drew Ichigo into an embrace that was readily accepted. Uryuu's heart was pounding painfully at the thought of Yhwach and the Shinigami prince getting anywhere near each other but it wasn't something he had the power to prevent. Not really. For all his skills and strategizing, he was no match for the mad king on his own. No one person could be until they severed the source of unnatural foresight granting his attacks a razor-sharp edge.

Reluctantly withdrawing, he met Ichigo's gaze and said, "If we succeed tomorrow, ask me again."

It was as close to a promise as Uryuu could afford to make. Ichigo seemed to accept it, leaning in for a kiss and grinning afterward.


	15. Uryuu and the Seven Shinigami Pt5

AN: Observant readers will note that this story was originally slated to have four parts, but the plot demanded a whole extra part to do the story justice. Hope no one minds!

* * *

Part 5

* * *

Someone screamed and Uryuu whirled in time to witness a Shinigami fall, a white and blue arrow lodged in her chest. There was an urgent shout in the distance that tapered to a shrill cry of agony. To his left, a Quincy roared a battle cry cut short by a sudden stab through the abdomen. The rapid-repeat _shoonk_ of arrows mingling with the clang and slice of metal ringing throughout the city sounded like a lethal kind of music the prince had never heard before. He already knew he never wanted to hear it again.

Everywhere around him was motion. Flashes of black and white and red, so much red splashed across the sun-bleached blocks of stone paving the ground. Alabaster statues propped on sturdy plinths mirrored the massacre, slathered in second-hand gore. The still air was stale with the tang of copper and sweat. Blinding rays of orange light struck out from the setting sun to the west, casting their surroundings into surreal relief contrasted with stretching shadows. There was so much to take in, so many disorienting details, but they had to press on. They were so close to the castle!

The Shinigami army had been rushing and clashing and regrouping since morning. All because Uryuu's speech at the gates had fallen on adamant ears. The prince had done his best to sway his people in favor of peace, but Yhwach's malevolent tendrils of influence were too deeply rooted to nurture the fragile kernel of truce. Yet, he knew it could have been much worse. The legion of King Ryuuken's soldiers had been many times greater than what they were facing, and it gave him hope to think such a large proportion of the realm was on his side. Even if they were too frightened to join the uprising against his uncle.

Another cluster of Shinigami went down under a hail of arrows and Uryuu's eyes scanned the ramparts, lined with some of the city's most elite sharp-shooters.

"Get your men onto the balustrade!" he called out to Renji across a courtyard littered with blood and bodies. "Take out those archers!"

His closest general gave a curt nod and issued orders to his scattered squadron. They were all spread thin—not because they didn't have the numbers to rival Yhwach's reduced forces, but because the battle had spilled into most of the city's streets and even the commercial districts. The majority of Quincy denizens were tucked safely away in their homes, for which Uryuu was very grateful, but those who had chosen to stay were veterans. Men and women he recognized as those who had been fighting since before he was born. They knew the terrain even better than he did and had the type of combat expertise boasted in legend. If the Shinigami had any chance of besting them on their own turf, it would require retaking the higher ground and suppressing the snipers. Otherwise, they would all be picked off long before they could make it to Yhwach himself.

Uryuu shot a man aiming for one of his black-clad comrades and watched him collapse, groaning from a wound that wasn't mortal. Every arrow he fired on his own kin killed him, while also bringing him one step closer to ending the war. He had to keep reminding himself that he was doing this _for_ his people, not _to_ them. Particularly whenever he saw a formerly friendly face contort in misery he caused.

A missile grazed his shoulder, the sudden sting inspiring brief panic. Uryuu rotated to release the string he had already drawn in response. A split-second before the dart hit home, he recognized his target as an older woman who had finished teaching him how to sew after his mother passed partway through the lessons he'd begged her for. The woman gasped in shock as she went down and it took everything in him not to run to her side.

His hand trembled no matter how hard he gripped his bow to steady it.

"Uryuu!" He hadn't realized he'd shut his eyes until they flew open at the frantic call. Ichigo yanked him backward and a pair of arrows embedded into the ground where he'd just been standing. The Shinigami dragged him under shaded cover of a narrow alley and demanded, "What the hell were you thinking, standing out in the open like that?"

"I'm sorry. I just—"

"You're shaking…Are you hurt?"

"No, Ichigo, I'm fine."

"Then why are you bleeding?"

A testing touch to Uryuu's arm made him cringe but he insisted, "It's nothing."

It really was nothing, compared with the ache in his chest and the pounding in his skull. Ichigo gave him a stern look and tore a strip off his uniform to bind the small injury. Then he nudged Uryuu's chin up to study him carefully.

"What's wrong?"

He made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "What _isn't_ wrong right now?"

"Prince!" a voice hissed from the shadows. Both princes turned to spot a young man's head poking out of an open doorway further down the alley. "Prince Uryuu, come this way, hurry!"

A single step was all he managed before Ichigo stopped him, whispering, "It could be a trap."

"Unlikely. That boy is a squire to one of my father's personal guard. He has known me his whole life."

"Most of these people have known you longer," he argued with a vague gesture toward the city in general, "And they seem perfectly willing to shoot you down."

"I like our chances." Uryuu grabbed his hand and urged, "Let's go."

Ichigo pursed his lips in discontent but allowed himself to be led toward the mystery door. They walked into a cluttered kitchen area, warm from a fire in the brick oven by the far corner. The squire was waiting beside a stack of crates filled with flour and grain. He straightened as they entered, nervously fidgeting with the hat he swiped from atop blond hair.

"The rumors said you were alive but I still can't believe you're actually here," said the boy in a hushed tone. "We went to your funeral, you know. Me and Mr. Black. He sent me to give you a message from his friend."

There was only one 'friend' to whom he could've been referring. Uryuu frowned and coldly stated, "Haschwalth."

Tensing at the name, Ichigo's fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed blade. "Isn't that the guy you said chased you off in the first place?"

"And saved my life in the process, just days after he murdered my father." The squire grimaced and averted his gaze to avoid the raw fury in Uryuu's. "What could he possibly have to say to me?"

"Y-Yhwach has a mirror…" he haltingly relayed. "A magic mirror that lets him see things. Things like when his enemies will be alone and where they'll be most vulnerable."

Comprehension sparked and Uryuu stole a sharp inhale to exclaim, "That's how he assassinated the king!?"

"Must've been how he almost got you, too," Ichigo indignantly reminded. "I guess Kisuke was right about it being sorcery."

The boy nodded agreement and continued, "That is why he will know when you're coming and how to stop you. There is no way to beat him as long as he can see every action before you take it."

"What are you saying? That I should just give up?" The messenger shrugged. Uryuu's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why should I believe any of this? If his master is so invulnerable, Haschwalth has no reason to warn me away from the castle and he certainly has no concern for my safety. I'm surprised he didn't find me himself and finish the job Yhwach gave him half a year ago!"

Pale green eyes widened and the boy breathed, "Then, you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Mr. Haschwalth is locked in the dungeon. He's been down there for months." The crease between his brow smoothed in chilling revelation. Yhwach must have intuited the betrayal once he'd learned the prince was still alive and cast his most faithful subject into the deepest pit he could find. "Mr. Black has been depressed ever since. He only got to speak to his friend by sneaking past the guards one night while the king was asleep."

Uryuu clenched his jaw against a conflicting surge of vindication and sympathy. Ryuuken's killer was paying for his crime as well as his charity. It wasn't wrong, but neither did it seem quite right.

"Magic mirror or no, I won't run away when there is so much at stake. Come on, Ichigo, the path to the castle must be clear by now."

They left the squire behind and ventured back into the fray, such as it was. The scene was much quieter with the bulk of the action having moved further toward the gleaming citadel in the center of the city. Ichigo stayed close by his side, alert for any sign of opposition as they picked a brisk path through patches of carnage.

After everything that had happened, it felt so strange strolling through the place he had always known as his home until very recently. Seeing it spoiled by violence and death made him want to curl up and cry. He didn't have the luxury of sentiment, however, when the man who had ruined it all was still gloating in his tower. That one person could cause so much suffering for the sake of their own avarice was infuriating.

No, Uryuu decided, Yhwach wasn't a person. He was a _monster_.

"If that kid was telling the truth," Ichigo abruptly began, "If there really is a mirror, what's the plan?"

"The plan is not to have a plan."

A lengthy pause preceded his tentative reply, "Okay, you're gonna have to explain that one."

"Well, the entire concept is flawed if you think about it. How many minute decisions are made before a single action is taken? Thousands of tiny factors add up to produce one outcome or another. The future is in constant flux and no amount of magic can foretell it with perfect accuracy every time. If it could, his second attempt to take my life wouldn't have failed. So, all we have to do is wing it."

"Wing it? _That's_ your plan?"

Uryuu met his questioning gaze and reasoned, "The more chaos we create, the harder our intentions should be to predict. In theory."

"In theory, sure, but in practice? Not so sure."

"Have you come up with a better idea or are you too busy ridiculing mine?" The Shinigami frowned but held his tongue. "Whether the odds are in our favor or his, I have to try. None of this means anything if I don't."

Tilting his head skyward, Ichigo sighed and grumbled, "I already know that. Doesn't mean I like it. Either way, I'm with you."

"Thank you," he murmured. They slowed to a stop near a wide column supporting an outdoor pavilion. "For everything you've done to help me get this far. No matter what happens today, I want you to know how grateful I am to you for believing in me."

"Nothing is going to happen, Uryuu."

"Because you won't let it?"

"Because _we_ won't," Ichigo insisted. "You, me, the rest of the guys, and all the people who came to fight with us. Your crazy uncle is gonna wish he'd never tried to steal your throne."

In spite of all the hardship they'd gone through—and all that they still had to go through—Uryuu smiled.

It warped into astonishment as an arrow skewered the carved stone between their faces. They lurched apart and sought out the challenger, drawing weapons and settling into defensive stances. The bright red mohawk was an instant giveaway.

"Bazzard Black," he grimly greeted. "'Hello' works just as well as an arrow at getting someone's attention, you know." Another alternative hello was fired and Uryuu barely dodged in time. His companion raised his sword and started forward. "Ichigo, wait! This is the man whose squire we just spoke with."

"I don't give a damn who he is, I'm not backing down until he puts his bow away."

"Got yourself a little guard dog, eh? Shinigami, too…You been slumming, Prince?"

Ichigo tensed to lunge. A grip on his sleeve barely held him in check.

"Even if you kill us both, Yhwach won't praise you for it. He isn't the type to reward his subordinates. Unlike my father."

"This has nothing to do with any king," the belligerent Quincy spat, "Yours or mine."

The unexpected claim gave Uryuu pause. If it wasn't about his loyalty to Yhwach, why would Bazz-b attack them? He glanced at Ichigo, practically grinding his teeth out of frustration for a fight, and the motive suddenly became crystal clear.

"This is about Haschwalth."

It wasn't a question and Bazz-b didn't answer, but Ichigo blurted, "What's he got to do with this asshole?"

"I am the reason he has been imprisoned."

"Damn right you are," their irate adversary agreed. "You'll pay for it in blood."

"You're blaming Uryuu for not dying quietly when your buddy tried to kill him? How stupid are you?"

"Shut up, mutt! No one asked you!"

Moving forward to regain Bazz-b's focus, he negotiated, "I won't promise that I would let him go free once Yhwach is deposed. But I swear on my family's name that I would treat Haschwalth far better than the king who abandoned him. He's being tortured, isn't he?" The sour twist to his features confirmed it. "I would never do that to anyone, regardless of the crime."

His stare bounced between the two of them in reluctant consideration. There was a slight lessening of his scowl as Bazz-b asked, "Could I visit whenever I wanted?"

"Under proper supervision." Earning a glare for the stipulation, Uryuu graciously relented, "Though I suppose the guards could still keep watch from the hall."

Ichigo gave him a sideways look, obviously not catching on to the subtext, but he didn't voice the questions etched all over his face.

The Quincy thought about it for a while, tempted. One more thing kept him dubious. "Do you honestly think you could stand against Yhwach?"

"Yes," Uryuu answered without hesitation, "I do. Isn't that why you sent the boy—less in warning, more as a test of my resolve? I trust you have your answer."

Although Bazz-b snorted at his confidence, he caved. "Fine. I won't kill you, as long as you keep your word."

He shouldered his bow and Ichigo cautiously lowered his sword but didn't sheath it.

"Will you help us get into the castle?" tried Uryuu. He had nothing to lose by asking.

"Sure. No problem."

"Hold on, we're supposed to trust this guy now because you promised to be a nicer jailor for his friend?"

"They aren't just _friends_ , Ichigo."

The Shinigami blinked at that. Then it clicked. "Oh."

Rolling his eyes, Bazz-b started walking without waiting to see whether they would follow.

* * *

Glowing torches spluttered in the gust of their passing all the way up to the castle's central spire. With Bazz-b's assistance they had reached it in excellent time, but not before the sun had finished setting outside. Thankfully the war raging on the ramparts hadn't deterred staff from dutifully lighting the appropriate halls and chambers as usual.

They were around the corner from a stairwell leading to the tower when Bazz-b suddenly stopped, turned, and shoved Uryuu through the nearest doorway. He didn't protest because he'd heard the faint echo of harried footsteps, too, but Ichigo hadn't.

"Hey, keep your hands off my fianc—"

Uryuu clamped a palm over his mouth and drew him further into the room, away from the open frame where a contingent of soldiers could be seen jogging by mere seconds later. After the threat had passed, Bazz-b regarded the prince in blatant confusion.

"Did he just call you his—"

"Don't ask." It really wasn't worth explaining why a seemingly random Shinigami had casually implied betrothal when Uryuu didn't fully understand it himself. He hadn't said 'yes' yet!

The Quincy shrugged and let the subject drop. He said, "There will be guards posted at the tower entrance. You two stay here while I get rid of them."

It was only after Bazz-b left that he gathered his bearings enough to recognize the room in which they stood. Uryuu went rigid as he stared at a spot on the floor across the room where an elaborately woven rug had once been.

Noticing his tension, Ichigo asked, "What is it?"

"My father…this is where he died." He swallowed against a knot in his throat and tore his eyes from the gruesome afterimage of King Ryuuken lying slain just a few paces away. "My last words to him were bitter. I was angry over something so insignificant and now I can't even…"

"If he was anything like my dad, all that stuff just rolls off like water. His final thoughts were probably of concern for the son he loved more than anyone in the world."

It was a nice notion, if a little unlikely. At least he could still take solace in the fact that they were about to avenge the death of his father, as well as all the deaths Yhwach had caused since his rise to power. Hopefully.

They waited in silence until Bazz-b's return. He strode in from the hall and announced, "The route is clear."

"What did you do to the guards?" Ichigo wanted to know.

"I ordered them down to the battlement as reinforcements. They didn't want to go but I'm a ranking officer, so they had no choice. What, did you think I killed them?" He laughed at their uneasy expressions and addressed Uryuu, "You're on your own from here, Prince. I won't risk openly betraying Yhwach when someone's gotta stick around to break Haschwalth free if you fail."

"I understand. Thank you for helping us get this far."

Bazz-b gave him a wry look and replied, "Thank me by becoming a better king than that lunatic upstairs."

They watched him sweep from the room with evident purpose. Uryuu wouldn't have put it past him to be heading straight for the dungeon. Taking advantage of the confusion, it might have been possible for him to get Haschwalth out before the dust had even settled. Then it wouldn't matter who was or wasn't the kingdom's sanctioned ruler.

The route to the tower was indeed clear, and they hurried up the spiral stairwell to reach a wide wooden double door. Its handles turned unimpeded, allowing an aperture to gape as the room beyond was revealed. Readying weapons, they warily stepped inside. There were no torches burning in metal mounts lining the circular chamber. Instead tall, narrow windows set high upon the domed ceiling let pale moonlight stream into the space. It did little to disperse the darkness but lent the grey stone walls and floor a sickly, bluish cast.

Vague outlines of furniture represented unknown threats as Uryuu's eyes scanned them for a human silhouette. The thought that Yhwach may not have been there never occurred to him. A man like him always had to claim the higher ground, to loom over his underlings and watch them scurry about from a convenient distance. A man like him wouldn't put himself anywhere near the battle if he could stand back and let others do his dirty work. A man like him loved the element of surprise and would wait for the best moment to strike.

"Coward!" he yelled to shatter the silence. "Have you no sense of honor left? Step out and face me!"

From somewhere across the chamber, a deep voice evenly answered, "Honor is for the weak-willed and feeble-minded masses, boy. It has no place in politics."

"Politics? This isn't about _politics_ —this is about justice!" Uryuu moved further into the room as his blood began to rise. "You had my father killed and you think I'm here just to reclaim the title you stole?"

Low laughter reverberated from everywhere and nowhere at once. His glance kept flicking from one shape to another, alert for any sign of movement in the stillness. A single arrow could have decided the outcome, regardless of who shot first, and the bow in his grip seemed far inferior to a shield in that moment. Again, a gravelly voice pervaded the atmosphere but the vaulted dome's complex acoustics made it impossible to pinpoint the origin.

"I have already seen all the ways this confrontation can end. It never bodes well for you." Whirling when it sounded like the words came from behind him, Uryuu felt his heart rate pick up as fear set in. "If I strike at you, your Shinigami will absorb the blow. If I get rid of him first, you leap in to take his place. Either way you both breathe your last in this tower. It is all very touching…and so very futile."

He could feel the pressure of Ichigo's stare on him and he knew what the man was wondering. Even after Uryuu had sworn to put his people above all else, would he really forfeit his life to protect one Shinigami? The prince was reluctant to acknowledge the answer to that question, however, and he had more important concerns to focus on.

"If victory is assured, you have nothing to lose by showing yourself."

"Neither have I anything to gain."

Uryuu grit his teeth against a growl of frustration. By that point, the prospect of firing at random was appealing. Maybe he would've gotten lucky and nailed Yhwach right in his smug mouth.

A sharp inhale on his left kept the impulse at bay. Ichigo's gaze was locked on a target by the far wall and Uryuu stiffened to see a massive, ornate mirror stationed there. It had to be _the_ mirror. Destroying the asset might've been just the thing to shake their enemy's composure. Ichigo began edging toward it and he knew what needed to be done: a distraction was in order.

"We have discovered the cure for those afflicted with the Hollow curse, Yhwach. Does that mean nothing to you? Without major change, what will the Quincy do when our way of life becomes extinct?"

"I will build up my army and finish what our ancestors started."

"You would wage all-out war against Shinigami?" he incredulously gaped. "The very reason for our conflict has been erased! Peace between the realms would be to the benefit of everyone residing within them!"

"You always were naïve." More of that unnerving mirth billowed around Uryuu like cloying smoke. "There is no such thing as _peace_ , boy. Only conquest, domination, and absolute power!"

A sense of despair shrouded his mind as he realized just how dangerous Yhwach really was. The strength of his conviction was astounding, despite being based in profound delusion. Left unchecked, his ambition would reach disastrous proportions. He wouldn't be satisfied until every man, woman, and child on the entire continent bent a knee and vowed fealty. Uryuu simply could not allow that to happen.

He loosed an arrow into the inky abyss and heard it hit something made of wood, not of flesh. Ichigo was mere steps away from the mirror, which was fortunate because the prince had nothing else to say to his uncle.

There was a resounding crash as blade met glass. Before the shards had finished falling, before Ichigo could even lower his sword an arrow struck him in the chest. The force of it knocked him against the wall. He coughed once and went down hard.

" _Ichigo_!"

"Insolent children," chided Yhwach. "Did you think I wouldn't have seen that, as well? I can have another mirror enchanted at my whim within the week."

The plan had backfired badly and Uryuu was too distressed to anticipate the dart shot in his direction. He barely managed to lean aside at the last instant, sustaining a shallow cut across his cheek rather than an arrow through the eye. Crouching low, he rushed to Ichigo's side, flinching each time an arrow's impact narrowly missed him. Yhwach was toying with them; he had been from the moment they stepped foot into the tower. Otherwise, they would have been long dead already.

Somehow, Uryuu made it to the Shinigami mostly intact. Ichigo was unconscious, but he came to as he was dragged toward the cover of a broad oak desk. The arrow was close enough to his shoulder that it had missed both heart and lungs. He was hemorrhaging heavily, though, and panic threatened to overwhelm Uryuu at the sight. His hands trembled as they snapped the shaft in half and gingerly drew it out. Ichigo groaned from the pain, but it forced some clarity past the shock of injury.

" _Shit_ , I should've seen that coming," he lamented while Uryuu shed his jacket to rip off the sleeves. They made for a decent tourniquet in a pinch. "Did he get you?"

"No."

"Then why are you bleeding?" Ichigo raised a hand aiming for the cut on his face but stopped when the motion pulled at his sore shoulder. "You have to get out of here, Uryuu."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious. I'll get his attention so you can—"

"I said _shut up_ , Ichigo," he irritably snapped, unwilling to hear any more of such talk. "I need to think."

If only he could see the target clearly! They would never have a chance if he couldn't spot Yhwach long enough to take aim, but the nearest torch was downstairs in the main hall and there was no other…Uryuu straightened as an epiphany tingled down his spine. This used to be his grandfather's personal study and they had spent countless hours there together. The layout had changed somewhat but one thing that probably hadn't was the spare jar of lamp oil he knew Souken used to keep in the bottom drawer of the very desk he was leaning against.

A flurry of motion followed as Uryuu rummaged for and found the jar before dousing the top of the desk with its contents, attracting a fresh volley for his trouble. Ichigo's eyes lit with comprehension and the prince paused to appraise him.

"Can you move?"

"Yeah," the Shinigami grunted. "Not very fast, but yeah."

"Then be ready."

Uryuu took a bracing breath and dragged the flat of an arrowhead's edge across the rasp of a rough statuette. It took three tries to get a spark. The surface ignited, rapidly spreading across dusty kindling with oil's aid. Within seconds, the whole desk was aflame. They scrabbled away from it, squinting in a burst of light banishing the shadows. Dry wood crackled eagerly, sending flecks of fire to the rug, the chair, and even the bookshelf. Hot coals caught and flared, threatening an inferno. They needed to _hurry_.

There was nowhere for Yhwach to hide anymore. Uryuu rose and spotted him immediately. His bow creaked from the force of the draw, squeezing a grunt of effort from the desperate prince. The arrow met its mark. Yhwach glanced down to the shaft sticking out of his abdomen as if he couldn't believe what he was feeling. Apparently, he hadn't seen _that_ in his precious mirror.

Still, the old warmonger wouldn't go down so easily. He ripped the arrowhead free with an enraged growl and sent a shot right back. Uryuu was spurred into action. Dodging and shooting as appropriate, he made his way around the spreading fire toward his uncle. Yhwach roared as a dart struck his arm. Uryuu cried out when another sliced into his thigh. They slowly closed in on each other, taking turns inflicting damage in the heating arena until they were both slinging blood and sweat across the floor with each rapid motion.

Scrabbling at his quiver for another arrow, the prince gasped to discover only one remained. Uryuu knew he had to make the last one count, so he steeled his courage and dashed even closer to his enemy. He stopped at short-range and Yhwach mirrored his archer's stance. In that split-second of aiming the arrow and drawing the string, Uryuu realized that taking the shot from that distance meant he did not have time to evade. Yet, the same applied to Yhwach, and his demise was worth any cost.

Anxiety dissolved as he made the decision. Uryuu released his arrow and awaited the inevitable end.

The attack hit with flawless accuracy. His breath froze in his lungs and his eyes widened because a sword burst through the center of Yhwach's chest the same instant Uryuu's arrow lodged in his throat. They had both been too focused on their duel to notice Ichigo moving in from behind. Yhwach's shot went wide, completely missing his stunned nephew, and blood gurgled from his gaping mouth in place of malicious last words. The mad king dropped to his knees, then fell to the floor. Ichigo stood behind him, holding his hurt arm to his chest while the other held his blade's hilt.

Their eyes met across the room, broadcasting hope and the beginnings of triumph. But the fire was releasing a suffocating miasma of smoke as it devoured the furnishings at an alarming rate. Uryuu pointed toward the exit. They ran, stumbling from pain and fatigue and dizziness. The stairwell swam and shrank around them as they rushed down to the lower level, spilling out into the hallway and gripping the wall for support.

It hurt to breathe but Uryuu couldn't stop gasping. Ichigo wasn't much better off, sucking in uneven gulps of air and rubbing soot from his eyes.

"Lighting that fire was genius," rasped the Shinigami, "But it's a miracle we got out in time!"

"If I had known my uncle would—" Uryuu paused to indulge a minor fit of coughing before finishing, "Hide in the dark like an insect, I would have brought a lantern!"

Ichigo snorted, then sneezed, then winced as the movement irked his wound. "Let's go find Hana so he can patch us up before we pass out."

Nodding agreement, Uryuu pushed off the wall and started forward. He watched Ichigo follow suit, except he went pale and tilted sideways without taking a single step. The prince didn't hesitate to help, pulling Ichigo's arm across his shoulders, and they made painstaking progress through the castle to the ground floor.

They were still leaning on each other when they came across a congregation in the main hall. The Shinigami were in the process of establishing a basic camp there and Uryuu wilted in relief because he knew it meant they were truly victorious. The usurper was dead and his loyalists had all been killed or captured over the course of a very long day. Elated in light of good news, he found himself drawing Ichigo into a celebratory embrace.

"It's over," he sighed, holding the prince tighter.

"No," Uryuu firmly said, "It's just beginning."

* * *

THE END


End file.
